


Shades of Grey

by AJ_Wesley



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-29
Updated: 2008-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 01:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 36,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14780910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJ_Wesley/pseuds/AJ_Wesley
Summary: A lunch out of the office turns into a nightmare and puts Sam and Josh's friendship to the test and their lives on the line.





	1. Shades of Grey

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

 

Shades of Grey  
AJ Wesley

  


Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman checked his watch and gave a contented sigh. He'd been stuck in his office for the past week with the phone attached to his ear and an annoying headache pounding behind his eyes.

Donna had been thoughtful enough the past few days to bring him lunch, remnants of which reminded his he needed to speak to the cleaning staff. The Styrofoam container from yesterday's sandwich was still in the trash can, a shriveled piece of lettuce � at least he thought it was lettuce � from his salad from two days ago was stuck to the arm of his chair, and a few dried pieces of rice from the Chinese take-away from three days ago littered the floor. Enough was enough, he thought, taking in the mess. Josh stood, stretched, and rolled his stiff neck, then left his office, looking forward to going out to eat today.

"Donna!" he called over his shoulder. "I'm going to lunch."

"Okay!" came his assistant's reply from somewhere in the bullpen.

"Make sure those papers are on my desk when I get back."

"Which papers?"

"You know!" he called, turning and walking backward. "For my two o'clock meeting!"

Donatella Moss appeared in the doorway of her office just as he reached the lobby, her arms folded across her chest, "I'm sorry, I forgot my crystal ball today."

As he stepped into the lobby and turned his back to her, he muttered, "I see you remembered your broom, though."

As Josh crossed the Yellow Hall, a plaintive "I heard that!" reached his ears and he smiled. The tensions of the week were finally easing.

The New Year hadn't started off well. Tensions in the Middle East were flaring up again. The President was being advised on whether or not to send in troops if the fighting escalated. Toby and Sam were working on speeches in case they did, and to top it off, some yo-yo had gotten himself arrested on minor charges in New York and turned out to be the leader of a terrorist group that claimed responsibility for a bombing in England. The news of his extradition had sparked a wave of terrorist threats across the country, and increased the White House mail tenfold. Most of those letters were funneled out to the Secret Service or the CIA, but several stacks of copies had ended up on Josh's desk. It was his job to decide which of the letters merited a response from the White House.

Arriving at his destination, he rapped the doorframe.

Sam Seaborn looked up from his laptop, then down at his watch. "It's lunch time already?"

"Pack it up and grab your coat," Josh ordered. "We're outta here."

"My coat?" Sam asked, saving his work then closing the computer. "Where are we going?"

Josh rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Rexy's Tavern!"

His friend looked less than enthused. "Josh..."

Josh headed him off at the pass. "Sam! Portobello mushroom fajitas."

The idea seemed to tempt the Deputy Communications Director. Sam considered it a moment longer, then shook his head. "I'm boycotting Rexy's."

Josh leaned on the doorframe and folded his arms. "Oh? Since when?"

"Since they stopped serving white chocolate ice cream."

Josh pursed his lips and thought a minute. "Tell you what. I'll have the President call the manager."

Sam pulled off his glasses and tucked them in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "You know, I'm not so sure he wouldn't do it." He stood and grabbed his coat from its hook. "All right. But only under protest. And it's your turn to pick up the tab."

"Deal." Josh straightened with a smile. "Oh, by the way," he began as Sam walked past him to peek into his boss' office.

"I'm going out to lunch," Sam said.

Toby Zeigler didn't bother to look up from the draft he was reviewing. "Goodbye."

Josh continued quickly as they headed for the lobby. "An old friend of mine called this morning and wanted to meet me for lunch; I told him I already had plans but...do you mind? He's looking forward to meeting you."

Sam did an abrupt about-face and went back to Zeigler's office. "Toby," he said, his tone pleading for salvation, "are you sure you don't need that speech now? I really don't have t go to lunch. Really."

This time Toby did look up. He glanced at Sam, then at Josh, assessing the situation. Then he smiled. "No." He went back to his papers. "Have a nice lunch." 

Sam's shoulders sagged.

Josh clapped his friend on the back. "Come on. It'll be great!"

"Yeah, great," Sam said with a sigh. "Sitting there listening to you and someone I've never met reminisce for an hour."

"It won't be like that, Sam, I swear..."

 

Sam folded his last fajita and took a bite. It had been nearly an hour and he'd barely said a word beyond introductions. Oh, Josh had tried to involve him in the conversation, but as soon as Sam heard the words 'Do you remember when', he knew he was lost. Thank goodness for the waitress or he probably would have had no one to talk to at all. He knew the next time she came by she would ask if they wanted dessert. He considered ordering white chocolate ice cream just so she could tell him they didn't have it any more, and then he could debate with her about it.

Putting down the rest of the fajita, Sam resisted the urge to lean his elbow on the table and rest his head on his hand. He sat back in his chair and glanced at his watch. They would have to be getting back to the White House soon. Resigned, Sam divided his attention between the news on the television over the bar to his left, and Josh and his old friend.

Rashid Ahmad was not what he had expected. He seemed okay. And he was certainly enjoying reliving old times. There was just something about him....He knew what Josh would say. Josh would laugh and insist he was jealous. Which of course was ridiculous. He wasn't the least bit jealous...not at all...

Further speculation was interrupted by the arrival of the waitress. He decided to forego the debate in favor of a hasty retreat. "We really should be getting back," he told Josh.

The Deputy Chief of Staff consulted his watch. "Wow! That went fast."

For you, Sam thought.

The waitress deposited the check on the table and wished them a good day. Sam reached for the check, but Ahmad grabbed it first. "Allow me," he said.

"Raj, you don't have to do that," Josh admonished.

Sam smiled. Okay. There was a stroke on the positive side. He stood and grabbed his coat from the fourth, unoccupied chair as Ahmad pulled out his wallet and tucked several bills into the black tab wallet.

They stepped out onto Pennsylvania Avenue and Sam waited as the two old friends shook hands.

"It was good to see you again, Raj," Josh said.

"Josh," Ahmad said, "there is one other thing I wanted to discuss with you. Do you have a moment to walk me to my car?"

"Sure." Josh glanced back at Sam.

Sam shrugged. "I'll meet you at the car."

"This concerns you as well, Sam," Ahmad said. "Please." He held out an ushering hand.

Sam tried to stifle a sigh as he walked behind Josh and Ahmad.

"Are you familiar with the political prisoner being held in New York?" Ahmad asked.

Josh snorted. "Which one?"

"Mohammed Riaz," Ahmad supplied.

When Josh hesitated, Sam said, "He's going to be extradited to England." 

"Oh, yeah." Josh nodded. "Didn't he plant a bomb in the Underground or something?"

"Yes," Sam said with disgust. "He killed twelve people just to get to one guy."

"What about him?" Josh asked.

Ahmad reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his keys. The black Explorer parked at the curb bleeped as he unlocked the doors. "You asked me what I was doing now. I guess you could say I'm in politics as well."

Josh smiled. "I knew it! Who are you working for?"

Sam was very interested to hear the answer � until a vice grip locked around his biceps and something hard jammed into his ribs. He turned his head and saw his aggressor, but he could only guess at what was hidden amidst the folds of his coat.

A nervous smile touching his lips, Sam asked, "What's going on?" He looked back at Josh and Ahmad praying he was simply not privy to some bad joke. The wary expression on Josh's face did nothing to calm his fears.

"Raj..." Josh said

"I work for Mohammed Riaz."

Sam's smile faded. "This is a joke, right?" he said, his stomach twisting in knots.

For a moment, no one said a word. Sam's heart pounded faster in his chest "Jesus Christ," he said on a breath. He was prodded past Ahmad and Josh to the door of the Explorer.

"Oh, God," he heard Josh say. "Oh, my God. Rashid, don't do this."

"It is already done," Ahmad said.

It was all happening too fast. Sam felt his whole body trembling as he was forced into the back of the SUV, but Ahmad's next words made him nauseous:

"Get in the car, Joshua. Your friend's life depends on your behavior."

Oh dear God, Sam thought. This isn't happening. This can't be happening. He was forced down onto the seat, and Sam got a clear view of the gun. It was centered on his chest. He balled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

He finally managed to tear his gaze from the gun. He glanced at Josh who was now in the front passenger seat. His friend looked back at him, and amidst the fear in his eyes, Sam saw regret.

 

 

  


	2. Shades of Grey

 

 

 

Shades of Grey

Part 2

 

  
by AJ  


Toby was grateful for CJ's absence when he arrived with copies of the latest updates. It meant he wouldn't be waylaid. It wasn't that the Press Secretary usually bothered him � in fact she annoyed him a great deal less than most others � it was simply that he had a lot of work to do. And if Seaborn didn't return from lunch soon he would be going right to the top of Toby's hit list.

The thought of it brought a smile to Toby's lips as he placed the folder on CJ Cregg's desk, but as he turned to leave he found the doorway blocked by Josh's assistant.

"CJ's not here," Donna said.

"I know."

"She went to see Danny," she told him.

"I don't care." Toby took a few steps toward her in the hopes she would get out of his way. She didn't move. "Is there something you wanted?" he finally asked.

"Have you seen Josh?" she asked. Her voice sounded as if she didn't know whether she should be angry or worried.

"He went to lunch with Sam."

"I know, but he isn't back yet."

Toby wondered if there was a point to this. He raised his eyebrows, refusing to ask inane questions that would only prompt inane answers.

"Have you seen Sam?" Donna asked.

Toby pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to sigh. "He went to lunch with Josh. Is there a point to all this?"

"Josh had a meeting fifteen minutes ago," the blonde woman explained.

"And you're telling me this why?"

"It's not like Josh to be late."

Toby's eyebrows raised a notch.

Donna interpreted the look. "Well, not on purpose, anyway."

Toby didn't comment.

"Okay, sometimes it's on purpose, but not very often." Donna was beginning to fidget. Finally she looked away. "I'm shutting up now," she said.

"Thank you." This time Toby managed to brush past her, beating a hasty retreat down the hall.

He knew he was being followed. "Donna..." he warned, coming to a halt, but not turning around.

"Do you think you could page Sam?" she asked.

If he wasn't so busy, Toby would probably enjoyed Donna's discomfiture. "Your boss has a cell phone, Donna," he reminded, continuing on his way. "Use it."

"I know, but with the mood he's been in lately I was trying to avoid that." She was practically walking sideways to keep pace with him and catch his eye.

Toby stopped, this time piercing her with a glare. "Call him."

"All right!" She turned abruptly and stalked back to her office.

Watching her go, Toby allowed a smile to twitch his lips. "Well," he mumbled, "that was entertaining."

  


	3. Shades of Grey 3

 

Shades of Grey  
By AJ  


There were three of them now, all issuing orders in a language he didn't understand. And if they understood him, they weren't letting on.  
Sam stumbled as he reached the top of the stairs, trying without success to peer over the banister to see where Ahmad and the others had taken Josh. Someone grabbed the collar of his coat and yanked him to the right. He sidestepped to avoid falling, his face flushed, his teeth clenched so tightly his jaw ached. Sam glared at them, but it had no effect.

An open doorway loomed at the end of the hall. Sam tried not to imagine what was on the other side. He didn't even realize his pace had slowed until he was pushed from behind. His breath caught as hands grabbed him and shoved him forward across the threshold.

The room was empty.

Sam let out a shaky breath and had trouble drawing another. He closed his eyes a moment, trying to calm down and get his mind to work.

A tug at his shoulder reclaimed his attention and he half-turned to his right as two of the men stripped him of his coat and suit jacket.

"Hey!" he protested, backing up a few steps. He kept his hands out in front of him, needing to get away but not wanting to be shot in the process.

Everything stopped. There was roar like that of a huge wave crashing in Sam's ears from the pounding of his heart. Light-headed and breathless, he waited for them to make the next move.

For the first time, he was able to actually see his captors. None of them looked any older Sam. He also saw that he was no longer being held at gunpoint. It seemed only one of three was armed. The man had his hand on what looked like an automatic rifle slung at his shoulder, but he made no move to use it.

Sam straightened slowly, lowering his hands. Some of his confidence returning, he asked, "Where's Josh?"

One of them chuckled, shaking his head. The guy in the center leaned closer to his armed associate and murmured something, pointing at Sam's belt.

Sam looked down, realizing what they were referring to, and he closed his fingers around the pager clipped to his belt. He looked up again and saw his armed captor take a step toward him. Sam backed farther away. It was crazy, really. The pager was of no use to him now. But whatever the reason, it was the only thing linking him to his friends at the White House, and he didn't want to give it up.

"Where's Josh?" he asked again, trying to divert their attention. "I want to see him!"

They came at him from three sides. One grabbed his right wrist and pulled. Grasped firmly in his hand, Sam's pager snapped from his belt. He tried to hang onto it, but as the pressure increased on his wrist, his fingers went numb. The pager fell from his hand and clattered on the wooden floor.

His fear giving way to anger, Sam lashed out with his left hand. It connected with something. One of the three fell back a few steps. He tore his wrist free, and launched himself at the doorway. "Josh!" he shouted.

The cry had no sooner left his lips than rough, merciless hands dragged him back into the room. Sam fought back with every bit of strength he had left. He knew it was useless; he could never hold off all three of them. But he also knew he couldn't give up. He had to find Josh. He had to�

The blow came without warning. He didn't even see it until it was too late. The impact snapped his head to the left and set off an explosion of white and red behind his eyes. He staggered sideways and hit the wall, grasping frantically at its solidity to keep himself upright.

Words. Shuffling. He was grabbed and slammed face first into the wall. Something tightened on his left wrist. He tried to pull away, but couldn't move his arms. They were pinned. Hands invaded his pockets. They were searching him, taking what little he had left. No. Don't. He couldn't breathe.

They released him and he started to fall. A push, a shove, and he was turned around. A hand grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him back against the wall. Sam winced as his head hit the cracking plaster. What could only be a warning was ground out through clenched teeth at him.

Then they were gone. The door slammed and a key scraped in the lock. Floorboards creaked and conversation grew faint as they moved away.

Silence.

Sam felt his entire body begin to tremble. His legs gave out and he slid down the wall to the floor. Propping his elbows on his knees, Sam ran his shaking hands through his hair. His forehead touching his knees, he clenched his fists in his hair. Oh, God. Oh God oh God oh God. What were they going to do to him? What were they doing to Josh?

He shivered. Raising his head, he wrapped his arms around his knees and leaned his head back against the wall.

The roar in his ears subsided. He could hear himself breathing. And something else. Voices. Coming from downstairs. Josh? Sam listened, certain it was his friend's voice. Just his voice. But it gave him something to hang on to so he wasn't so alone.


	4. Shades of Grey 4

 

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 4  
Josh spun to face the doorway. "Sam?"

Having been separated from his friend was bad enough, but hearing the desperation in Sam's voice drove him dangerously close to the edge. He'd been warned. They'd use Sam against him. He had a hard time believing Rashid would actually harm either of them, but the threat still loomed. It hung over his head like a pendulum.

Damn it, he had to know Sam was okay. Josh took two steps and found a gun in his face. He stopped short. His breath caught, and everything went black.

Images assailed his mind. Lights. Sirens. Screams. Events from two months ago came back to haunt him. He'd thought he'd conquered it.

No. Sam. He had to keep it together for Sam. Josh averted his gaze, trying to unclench his fists. His teeth ground together as he held back the expletives he so wanted to shout. Very slowly, he turned his head until he could see his old friend.

Rashid issued a soft-spoken order. The gun was reholstered, but Josh's path to the door was still blocked.

"I want to see Sam."

Rashid sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets. "No."

"Raj�"

"Sit down, Josh."

Josh didn't move.

One of Rashid's eyebrows quirked. He pulled his hands from his pockets and took the few steps necessary to bring him face to face with Josh. "Don't test me, Josh. I don't make idle threats. Sit down."

A rectangular table with folding metal chairs had been set up in the room, a room that at some point had probably been a dining room. He pulled out one of the chairs and sat, shivering at the coldness of the metal. The two space heaters in the room did little to take the bite out of the air.

As Rashid sat across from him, Josh hunched forward, resting elbows on his legs and clasping his hands between his knees. His headache was back, worse than before, making it hard for him to think.

He wished he had paid better attention while Rashid had been driving. Before he had gathered his wits enough to remember, they were halfway to where they were going. He knew they were in a not so good section of DC. The old brownstone they occupied had probably been beautiful twenty years ago. Not that any of it mattered now. Who could he tell?

Against the wall next to a swinging door was another table on top of which lay all his personal belongings. Watch, keys, comb, wallet, White House ID. Funny how his life could be summed up in that little pile of things.

"Looking for this?"

Josh looked up in time to see Rashid push a cell phone to the center of the table. Josh's phone.

Propping his elbows on the table, Josh ran his hands over his face. He rubbed his temples with his fingertips. It didn't help. "What do you want, Raj?"

"You didn't get where you are today by being stupid, Josh. You tell me." 

"You want us to free Riaz."

"Yes."

"Ain't gonna happen."

"That would be too bad."

Voices caught his attention and Josh turned as three young men entered the room. He recognized them as the ones who had taken Sam upstairs. One of them carried Sam's coat and suit jacket, another his belongings. They deposited the items next to Josh's.

Renewed fear for his friend made Josh's mouth go dry. He knew Sam Seaborn. The younger man would not have given up his possessions easily. He remembered Sam's cry. Then...

His heart was beating faster. It pounded in his temples. "Rashid�"

His phone rang. The ringing startled him; he usually kept it on vibrate so he didn't have to remember to turn it off during meetings.

Three rings.

Four.

"That's gonna be for me," he said. Had his voice just cracked?

Rashid sat back in his chair.

Josh's face flushed as he leaned forward and stabbed a finger at the phone. "You have to tell them what you want, Rashid. They don't have a God damn crystal ball!"

Crystal ball. Donna. It would be Donna on the phone. He wondered if he'd ever see her again.

Rashid stood and placed his palms on the table. "I will speak to them when I'm ready."

 


	5. Shades of Grey 5

 

 

Shades of Grey   
Part 5  


  
"Answer, Josh," Donna whispered as she heard the fourth ring. One more ring and Josh's voice mail kicked in. She pressed '1' to leave a message. "Josh. Did you forget your meeting?" She paused, for once not knowing what to say. "Call me. Please." She hung up, chewing on her bottom lip.

Maybe she was being ridiculous. Maybe there wasn't a problem. Josh would show up, and she would feel stupid for worrying. She wouldn't tell him, of course, but he'd know. He'd smile and tell her he was a big boy and could take care of himself. And everything would be okay.

Except...

Donna glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly three o'clock. Josh had never been this late. Sure, he'd blown in a few minutes before a meeting, or sometimes up to ten minutes late, depending on who was waiting for him. As far as she knew, Senator Collins was not on her boss' be-late-on-purpose list. She'd managed to convince the Senator that Josh had been unavoidably detained. The Senator had agreed to take his lunch and then return. He was due back at any time.

Worry filled the pit of her stomach, and she was moving before she realized it, her pace becoming more urgent with every step. She reached the Communications Bullpen and spotted Sam's assistant at her desk.

Cathy looked up at her approach. "Donna, I was going to call you. Have you seen Sam?"

Donna positioned herself so her back was to Toby's office. "No. I just tried to call him, but I got his voice mail. Do you think you could page Sam?"

Lines creased Cathy's smooth forehead as she picked up the phone and dialed Sam's number.

* * * * *

Toby circled the last of his edits on Sam's latest work and set his pen on the desk. Reading as he moved, he stood and headed for his deputy's office. He looked up over the rims of his glasses and saw the vacant desk. Where the hell was Seaborn?

With a huff that lifted his shoulders, Toby whipped around to the Bullpen and spotted the cluster of bodies around Cathy's desk. Cathy, Bonnie, Ginger...and Donna. Toby bristled.

"What is this today?" he demanded, his voice decibels above its normal tone. "Nobody has anything to do?"

Activity in the Bullpen stopped for several seconds as the staff members cringed, wondering what had set Toby off. They continued on with their work, considerably faster than before. All but the four assistants.

Toby fixed Donna with a glare. "You! I thought I told you to call your boss." 

"I did," she said. "He didn't answer."

Caught off guard by the lack of defensiveness in Donna's voice, Toby took a mental step back. "Oh," was all he could think to say.

There was worry etched in their faces. He could see that now, and a pang of guilt reminded him that his New Year's resolution was to watch his temper. And he'd certainly watched it do some flaring. So much for resolutions.

The four women were watching him, waiting. Toby worked his jaw. "Cathy, did you page Sam?" he asked, much softer than before.

"A couple minutes ago. We're just waiting for him to call back."

Toby nodded. "Donna, where did they go to lunch?"

"Rexy's."

"Call them and see if you can find out if they're still there, or when they left."

"Okay."

"Ginger, call Margaret and tell her I'm coming to see Leo."

His assistant nodded and returned to her desk to make the call.

Toby watched as the women dispersed, all but Cathy who tried to get back to work with little success. She kept glancing at her phone as if willing it to ring. Toby understood.

He returned to his desk, slow and pensive, and set the speech on his blotter. He didn't want to believe anything was wrong, but.... Toby drew a hand over his beard. Sam held a lot of pride in his job. If he could answer, he would. What were the odds that both Sam's pager and Josh's cell phone were not being heard?

Toby glanced at his phone, watching Cathy's extension. "Come on, Sam," he said on a breath.

"Toby?"

The Communications Director turned and saw Ginger standing in his doorway.

"Leo just got back," she said.

Toby nodded. He offered her a weak smile as she hovered near the door. He wanted to tell her everything was going to be all right, but it was hard to convince someone else when he wasn't certain himself. He just had a bad feeling....Toby squared his shoulders as he left his office, trying to at least remain outwardly calm for his staff. Not that it mattered. The simple fact that he was going to see the Chief of Staff was enough to set everyone on edge.

Don't do this to me, Sam, he thought as he made his way to Leo's office. Don't do this.

 

 


	6. Shades of Grey 6

 

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 6  


The faint beeping caught his attention. Sam turned his head, straining to hear. Curiosity drew him to his feet and over to the door. There it was. He was certain.  
It was his pager. They were looking for him. They knew something was wrong. It wouldn't be long now. His friends would...

Would...

What?

What could they possibly do? Sam's shoulders sagged, and he leaned his forehead on the cold wood of the door. The President wouldn't negotiate. He couldn't. They would look for him, but how long would it take for them to find him? Did he have that long? Once Ahmad realized there was to be no bargaining...Oh, dear God, he thought, help me, please.

Sam's legs wavered a moment and he rolled on his shoulder until his back was supported by the door. His breath shuddered in and out, and he tried to focus on something else.

He wondered what was going on in the White House now. How many people knew he was missing? Toby. Toby knew. A sad smile touched his lips as he imagined his boss fuming about the Bullpen asking if anyone had seen Sam. The smile was short-lived. Toby would be worried. For all his gruffness, the Communications Director really did care. He'd gone to bat for Sam more than once. And Sam found himself turning to his boss more and more. Josh was his best friend, and always there for him, but there were just times he found himself needing Toby's council. He wasn't sure why, he just...He wished Toby were there now�

The wretchedness of that thought horrified him and he propelled himself away from the door as if awakened from a nightmare. He didn't mean that. He didn't wish this on any of his friends. He'd just meant...

He began to prowl the room like a caged tiger. There were two windows, both of which had been boarded up. One of the slats on the side window had fallen askew, and Sam could see it was twilight outside. He lifted his wrist to check the time. His watch was gone. When had they taken his watch? Shit.

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, Sam returned his attention to his prison. Through the dimness, he spotted a door at the other end of the room. He strode to it and grasped the doorknob. Taking a breath, he turned the knob and pushed. The door creaked open to reveal a small master bath. He headed for the beveled glass window. It was boarded up too. He spun back toward the main room, suddenly uncomfortable in the enclosed space. He started out, but stopped at the doorway, spotting the knob and tube wiring beside the doorframe. The room had an overhead light. With a silent 'please', he turned the knob. There was a click, then there was light. It spilled out into the main room, throwing eerie shadows on the walls, shadows that seemed to mock him, reaffirming the fact that there was no way out.

No way out.

No! There had to be a way. His chest rose and fell as his lungs heaved for breath. He had to find Josh. He had to get out.

Sam bolted for the door. He knew it was locked, but he grasped the knob and yanked anyway. It didn't budge. "God damn it!" he yelled, pounding a fist on the solid wood. He didn't want to die. Not like this....

He couldn't hear the pager anymore. He couldn't hear voices anymore. His friends wouldn't give up on him, or Josh. They would find a way. He had to believe that.

His fist began a soft, rhythmic pounding on the door. He couldn't lose hope. He...

...couldn't

...lose...


	7. Shades of Grey 7

 

Shades of Grey  
part 7  


Josh sat slouched in the chair, his head leaning on the backrest. He heard Rashid snap the phone closed. Twenty-four hours. He rolled his head to the right to look at his old friend.   
Rashid smiled, lifting his shoulders in a small shrug. "And now we wait."

Rocking his head from side to side, Josh muttered, "This is crazy. This isn't happening." He wanted to launch himself at Rashid, grab him by the lapels of his expensive suit, and shake some sense into him. The presence of the guard--the one who had stuck the gun in his face--quelled the thought quickly. Instead, he slid upright and leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table. "What's going on here, Raj?"

"I would think that would be obvious."

"Oh, cut the crap. You know what I mean."

Rashid sat back in his chair, his lips pursed, but he made no comment.

Josh tried again. "Look, can we talk?"

Raj spread his hands. "We have twenty-four hours to talk."

"How about without the chaperone?"

There was something in Rashid's reaction that sparked hope in Josh. Maybe it was his hesitance, or the way his brows drew together a fraction of an inch. Raj considered the idea, rubbing his fingers in his impeccably groomed mustache and goatee. Finally, he said something to the guard.

As the two other men exchanged a few words, Josh realized that in all the time he had spent with Raj, he never knew his old friend spoke his native language so fluently. Josh had assumed Raj knew about as much Urdi as he himself knew Hebrew. What else was he wrong about?

The guard left the room.

"Now," Rashid said, "what is so important that we had to speak in private?"

"Jeez, Raj, you act like we don't even know each other-"

"We don't," Raj cut him off quickly, then added softly, "not anymore."

Josh matched his tone. "Talk to me."

Rashid looked at him a moment, then stood and began to pace. "You are not here as my friend, Joshua. Keep that in mind."

Josh sat back, shaking his head. "Yeah, I know what I'm here for. I'm being used. What happened to you, Raj? You had everything going for you. Your grades were outstanding. You were motivated, driven. You got more dates than I did. I've never forgiven you for that, you know." The fingers of Raj's right hand were rubbing together. He did that when he was uncertain. Good.

"This is not about you, Josh. And it's not about me. There are more important things to fight for, you know."

"Mohammad Riaz?"

"Yes."

"He's a terrorist!"

Raj spun on him, arm raised, finger pointing in his direction. "He is my mentor! He is a great man, a leader of men!"

Josh regarded his old friend silently a moment, then said softly, "You know, the only time you ever shouted was in Debate when you were trying to get a point across that you didn't entirely believe in."

Rashid straightened, tugging his suit jacket into place. "You want to know what I 'don't entirely believe in'? The American Dream. Yes, my grades were as good as yours. I was motivated. And I was driven--right out of my field. I could have been where you are now, had I been offered the opportunity." He was moving steadily closer to Josh, his voice so low it was barely audible. "But there were no opportunities for me."

"Raj..."

"Oh, I could have gone into business for myself. How about a convenience store or a gas station?"

Josh lowered his gaze. The snide comment sounded so alien coming from Raj. Josh sighed. "You should have called me."

The bang of Raj's fist hitting the table startled Josh.

"So I could owe you some political favor in the future?"

"No!"

"That's the problem with you Americans; you do nothing for honor. Everything has a price." Rashid leaned toward him, his hands on the table.

Josh sat there, his mouth agape before he finally managed to collect himself. "You Americans? For crying out loud, Raj, you're an American! And you're doing a hell of a lot of stereotyping here. That's not like you. You know what I think? I think you gave up. You allowed Riaz to talk you into believing you couldn't make it. That it was the fault of society. It was nobody's fault but your own!"

Josh gasped as Raj grabbed front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. Rashid was not a big man, but there was an intensity that worried Josh. They were so close, he could hear his old friend's teeth grinding together. Oh yeah, he'd struck a nerve.

They glared at each other for a long time, then Raj let go and distanced himself. When he spoke, it was so low Josh could barely hear him.

"Katherine and I were supposed to be married," Raj said. "I broke it off. I couldn't support her. I couldn't support a family."

"So you gave up on her, too."

Rashid stood very still. Josh watched him, wondering if he had managed to get through to the part of Raj that was his old friend. It was in there, somewhere.

Rashid drew himself up and squared his shoulders. He turned to Josh, his face masked of emotion. "I did not give up. I took control. With the help of Riaz I was able to pick myself up and start over. He gave me purpose. He showed me the truth. He must be allowed to continue his work."

"He's got you brainwashed," Josh said.

"Why is it so hard for you to see that I believe in what I'm doing?"

Josh shoved his hands in his pockets looked away from Raj's intense gaze. "Because I don't think you do. Not entirely."

There was no retort. Josh glanced back to find Rashid staring out across the room. Maybe there was some progress after all. Josh left the conversation there. At least he'd gotten the last word. He decided not to push the issue any further for the moment. There was something else that was much more important.

"Rashid," he said softly, a note of pleading in his voice. "Let me see Sam. Please."

 


	8. Shades of Grey 8

 

Shades of Grey  
part 8  


CJ Cregg stuck her head in Sam's office, then in Toby's. With a frown, she turned toward the Bullpen. "Cathy," she said, approaching the assistant's desk, "where is everyone? Josh and Donna weren't at their desks, now Sam and Toby? Is there a meeting I don't know about?"

"CJ," Cathy greeted, trying to sound cheerful. "No, actually�" 

The phone rang. Cathy glanced at the ID screen. Josh Lyman. She picked up the phone.

 

 

The commotion from his office drew Leo's attention. He shared a confused look with the President, then headed for the door. Before he could reach it, he was met by Cathy and Toby.

"Leo," Cathy said before he could say anything. "There's a man on the phone. He wants to speak with the President. He's calling on Josh's cell phone."

Out of the corner of his eye, Leo saw Bartlet heading for the phone. "Mr. President? It's better if he doesn't speak with you right away." It gave the caller an edge to know he could get to the President of the United States on the impression of a threat. And if that threat had anything to do with Josh and Sam, there was no telling what Bartlet might say in a moment of anger.

Leo saw his assistant hovering behind Toby. "Margaret. Secret Service. Now!" He headed for the President's desk. "What line is he on, Cathy?"

"Fifty-five."

The line was blinking. Jed placed his palms on his desk and leaned forward, his jaw set. Toby and CJ approached, but Cathy remained by the door. As Leo picked up the handset, the Secret Service converged on the Oval Office. Two of them took up stance directly behind the President.

Leo tapped the speaker phone button and opened the line. "This is Chief of Staff Leo McGarry. You mind telling me who you are and what you're doing with my deputy's phone?"

"Who I am is not important. What I want is. I asked to speak with the President." The man's voice was calm.

"He's not available at the moment. You'll have to talk to me."

There was a pause, then some muffled conversation on the other end. Then, "All right. Joshua Lyman and Sam Seaborn are hostages against the extradition of Mohammad Riaz to England. We demand his release."

CJ grasped Toby's arm with one hand while stifling a gasp with the other.

"I think you know we can't do that," Leo said. It was an effort to keep his voice neutral.

"Oh, I think you can. He's done nothing wrong in the United States. Your country doesn't want him. Are you telling me foreign relations are more important than the lives of your two coworkers? Be creative. You'll think of something."

Leo held up a warning hand the instant Jed Bartlet opened his mouth. The President's fingers had curled in; his knuckles were white. Bartlet was a passionate man. He cared deeply for the people who had helped him achieve the presidency. They were family. And you didn't mess with family.

"I want to talk to them," Leo demanded. "We don't discuss any deals until I know they're alive."

More silence.

Leo's stomach flipped as he imagined the worst, until:

"Leo?"

Josh. Leo breathed a sigh of relief. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah."

"Sam?"

"I think so. Yeah. We were separated, but...he's okay." It was a prompted response. Leo could hear the uncertainty in his deputy's voice.

Toby pulled from CJ's grasp and backed up a few paces to the sofa. CJ's fingers twined in her necklace. The President pushed away from the desk and began to pace. 

"Hang in there, son," Leo said. "We'll do everything we can."

"I know." Josh knew White House policy as well as Leo did.

There was another pause, then the terrorist was back. "You have twenty-four hours to come up with a solution for our dilemma. I will call you back then." A muted click, then nothing.

"Oh, my God. It's him."

The half-whispered words were loud in the stunned silence of the Oval Office. All attention turned to Donna, who was standing in the doorway to Leo's office clutching a folder to her chest. She snapped out of her daze as if suddenly realizing she had spoken out loud.

Bartlet took a few steps toward her. "Who, Donna?" He was trying to speak as gently as possible for her sake. "You know who that was?"

"I...I spoke to him this morning. It was Josh's friend from grad school. Um...Rashid. That's who he was meeting for lunch." Her eyes were wet. "Josh was so excited. He couldn't wait to see him."

The Secret Service Agent who had documented the phone conversation tucked his notebook in his pocket and approached the assistant. "Miss, would you mind coming down to Agent Butterfield's office? Anything you can tell us would be helpful." He turned to Bartlet. "Mr. President?"

Bartlet nodded his permission, this time stepping all the way up to Donna. He laid a hand on her arm. "Is that okay with you, Donna?" Her head moved, but he couldn't tell whether it was a nod or a shiver. "Do you want someone to go with you?"

Donna drew herself up, sniffed, and shook her head. "I'm fine. Thank you, sir."

"Cathy," Leo said, "you spoke to him as well?"

"Only for a few seconds," she said with a shake of her head.

"We'd like to get a statement from you all the same," the agent said.

Donna barely had time to pass the folder she'd brought to Leo before the two assistants were whisked from the room. Silence fell again as the other agents returned to their posts.

"What do I tell the press?" CJ asked, glancing at Toby. The Communications Director hadn't moved. He was practically sitting on the back of the sofa, staring down at his shoes.

"Nothing yet," said Leo. "We'll have to wait until we hear from the Secret Service, and probably the FBI. They're going to have to look over any statements we're going to make before we make them."

"Aren't we forgetting something here?" Toby was still staring at his shoes. When no one responded, he raised his head. "Sam and Josh have been kidnapped and all we're concerned with is what we can or cannot say to the press?"

CJ shook her head, her shoulders dropping. "Oh, Toby, that's not what I meant."

"It's what you said."

"Toby," Leo said, "nobody's forgetting Josh and Sam."

The Communications Director looked up, dead at Leo. "Then what are we doing about it?"

"We're leaving it in the hands of the professionals," Leo said, his tone and gaze cautioning Toby not to pursue it any further.

Toby ignored the warning. "So what you're telling me is they're as good as dead."

Leo took a step toward him. "White House policy�"

"To hell with White House policy!" Toby was yelling now. "I'm asking what we're going to do!"

CJ moved closer to Toby and placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't pull away.

"Toby," Bartlet said, his voice calm, sympathetic, "if we negotiate once�just once�we leave ourselves open to this kind of thing all the time." 

Toby's eyes were glazed, but he managed a small nod.

Bartlet drew a deep breath and let it out, walking slowly to the center of the room. "Look, I...know this isn't going to be easy for any of us. And the next twenty-four hours will probably feel like the longest in our lives. We can't afford to be divided in this. We're going to need each other. Your staffs are going to need you." He looked at each of them in turn. They looked tired, more so than he felt. "I know it's almost time for you to be heading home, but I'd like you to stay. There's room for you in the Residence. I'll make sure each of you has protection until this is over. I don't want to take the chance of these people abducting anyone else."

"Thank you, Mr. President," Leo and CJ said at almost the same time.

CJ squeezed Toby's shoulder.

"Thank you," the Communications Director whispered.

Jed nodded.

Interpreting the dismissal, Leo caught CJ's gaze and nodded toward his own office. The President would need a few moments to himself. CJ slipped her arm around Toby's shoulders and ushered him out of the Oval Office. Leo closed the door.

 

 

The Oval Office seemed larger than usual. Or was it simply that he felt smaller? Powerless was a better word. There were many times when he felt the weight of a nation on his shoulders. This was so much more. They had attacked him on a personal level, and there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn't used to that feeling.

Abbey was away. He couldn't even remember where she was. He wished she were there. He needed her touch, her reassurance, her strength.

But his wife wasn't there, and Jed suddenly realized there was only One he could turn to at the moment. He dropped into his chair by the sofa and propped his elbows on his knees. Bowing his face into his hands, Jed Bartlet prayed.

 


	9. Shades of Grey 9

 

Shades of Grey  
part 9  


Josh sat slouched in the chair, his head leaning on the backrest. He heard Rashid snap the phone closed. Twenty-four hours. He rolled his head to the right to look at his old friend.   
Rashid smiled, lifting his shoulders in a small shrug. "And now we wait."

Rocking his head from side to side, Josh muttered, "This is crazy. This isn't happening." He wanted to launch himself at Rashid, grab him by the lapels of his expensive suit, and shake some sense into him. The presence of the guard--the one who had stuck the gun in his face--quelled the thought quickly. Instead, he slid upright and leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table. "What's going on here, Raj?"

"I would think that would be obvious."

"Oh, cut the crap. You know what I mean."

Rashid sat back in his chair, his lips pursed, but he made no comment.

Josh tried again. "Look, can we talk?"

Raj spread his hands. "We have twenty-four hours to talk."

"How about without the chaperone?"

There was something in Rashid's reaction that sparked hope in Josh. Maybe it was his hesitance, or the way his brows drew together a fraction of an inch. Raj considered the idea, rubbing his fingers in his impeccably groomed mustache and goatee. Finally, he said something to the guard.

As the two other men exchanged a few words, Josh realized that in all the time he had spent with Raj, he never knew his old friend spoke his native language so fluently. Josh had assumed Raj knew about as much Urdi as he himself knew Hebrew. What else was he wrong about?

The guard left the room.

"Now," Rashid said, "what is so important that we had to speak in private?"

"Jeez, Raj, you act like we don't even know each other-"

"We don't," Raj cut him off quickly, then added softly, "not anymore."

Josh matched his tone. "Talk to me."

Rashid looked at him a moment, then stood and began to pace. "You are not here as my friend, Joshua. Keep that in mind."

Josh sat back, shaking his head. "Yeah, I know what I'm here for. I'm being used. What happened to you, Raj? You had everything going for you. Your grades were outstanding. You were motivated, driven. You got more dates than I did. I've never forgiven you for that, you know." The fingers of Raj's right hand were rubbing together. He did that when he was uncertain. Good.

"This is not about you, Josh. And it's not about me. There are more important things to fight for, you know."

"Mohammad Riaz?"

"Yes."

"He's a terrorist!"

Raj spun on him, arm raised, finger pointing in his direction. "He is my mentor! He is a great man, a leader of men!"

Josh regarded his old friend silently a moment, then said softly, "You know, the only time you ever shouted was in Debate when you were trying to get a point across that you didn't entirely believe in."

Rashid straightened, tugging his suit jacket into place. "You want to know what I 'don't entirely believe in'? The American Dream. Yes, my grades were as good as yours. I was motivated. And I was driven--right out of my field. I could have been where you are now, had I been offered the opportunity." He was moving steadily closer to Josh, his voice so low it was barely audible. "But there were no opportunities for me."

"Raj..."

"Oh, I could have gone into business for myself. How about a convenience store or a gas station?"

Josh lowered his gaze. The snide comment sounded so alien coming from Raj. Josh sighed. "You should have called me."

The bang of Raj's fist hitting the table startled Josh.

"So I could owe you some political favor in the future?"

"No!"

"That's the problem with you Americans; you do nothing for honor. Everything has a price." Rashid leaned toward him, his hands on the table.

Josh sat there, his mouth agape before he finally managed to collect himself. "You Americans? For crying out loud, Raj, you're an American! And you're doing a hell of a lot of stereotyping here. That's not like you. You know what I think? I think you gave up. You allowed Riaz to talk you into believing you couldn't make it. That it was the fault of society. It was nobody's fault but your own!"

Josh gasped as Raj grabbed front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. Rashid was not a big man, but there was an intensity that worried Josh. They were so close, he could hear his old friend's teeth grinding together. Oh yeah, he'd struck a nerve.

They glared at each other for a long time, then Raj let go and distanced himself. When he spoke, it was so low Josh could barely hear him.

"Katherine and I were supposed to be married," Raj said. "I broke it off. I couldn't support her. I couldn't support a family."

"So you gave up on her, too."

Rashid stood very still. Josh watched him, wondering if he had managed to get through to the part of Raj that was his old friend. It was in there, somewhere.

Rashid drew himself up and squared his shoulders. He turned to Josh, his face masked of emotion. "I did not give up. I took control. With the help of Riaz I was able to pick myself up and start over. He gave me purpose. He showed me the truth. He must be allowed to continue his work."

"He's got you brainwashed," Josh said.

"Why is it so hard for you to see that I believe in what I'm doing?"

Josh shoved his hands in his pockets looked away from Raj's intense gaze. "Because I don't think you do. Not entirely."

There was no retort. Josh glanced back to find Rashid staring out across the room. Maybe there was some progress after all. Josh left the conversation there. At least he'd gotten the last word. He decided not to push the issue any further for the moment. There was something else that was much more important.

"Rashid," he said softly, a note of pleading in his voice. "Let me see Sam. Please."

 


	10. Shades of Grey 10

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 10  


  
The sound of footsteps in the hall was unsettling enough, but when the key scraped in the lock, Sam tensed. Now what? He got to his feet and stood back against the wall, drew a deep breath, and waited.

The door swung open so hard it slammed against the wall. Sam started, instinctively bringing his hands up in front of himself. Framed in the doorway was one of the men from earlier. The one with the automatic rifle. The muzzle of the weapon panned across the room until the man's eyes adjusted to the dimness and picked Sam out of the shadows. An order followed.

Sam remained still. His captor hadn't made any motions that he should move, so he figured staying where he was was the safest bet. Then the man moved aside, making room for another figure.

"Josh?" He took a step forward, relief outweighing caution, but the rifle swung up in his direction again.

"Whoa, whoa!" Josh held up a hand to the guard.

Muttering through clenched teeth, the man gave Josh a shove far enough into the room so he could shut the door. It cut out the light from the hall, leaving Josh standing in the pinkish glow from the bathroom.

Sam quickly closed the distance between them, but couldn't seem to get any words past his lips.

Josh smiled, clasping Sam's arms. "You okay?"

"Ye-ah." His voice caught. Sam cleared his throat. "You?" That was better.

Josh nodded, but his attention focused on Sam's right cheek.

Sam knew there was a bruise there; he could feel it every time he moved his jaw. "It's nothing," he said. "I'm okay."

"You're freezing."

"Now that you mentioned it. Since you have an in with the head honcho, think you could get me my coat back? Or maybe a cup of coffee?" He hadn't meant it to sound biting, but from the look on Josh's face he knew it had hurt.

Josh's grip tightened and he gave a weak smile. "I'll see what I can do." He patted Sam's arms, then let go.

A pang of guilt tightened Sam's chest and he hastened to change the subject. "I heard my pager. They know?"

Again, Josh nodded. "I talked to Leo."

"They let you talk to Leo?"

"Only for a few seconds. He said they would do everything they can."

Sam took a few steps away from Josh and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah." He knew what that meant.

"Sam, I'm so sorry I got you involved in this."

"Josh, don't�"

His friend stepped up beside him once more, but this time when he spoke, Sam had to strain to hear.

"Sam, I've been talking with Raj...I think I can convince him to let us go."

"What?" Sam had heard him; he just didn't believe it.

"I think�"

"No, Josh." He glanced at his friend and saw the confusion in his face. Matching Josh's tone, he explained, "He's obviously not the same guy you knew in school." Before Josh could comment, he turned to face him, the words spilling from his mouth before he thought about them. "And even if you could convince him, what about the other ten guys here? Or however many there are. Think they'll go for it? They'll shoot Rashid and we'll be left with Mr. Don't Mess With Me, My Gun Is Bigger out there. And he's not so happy with me as it is. Besides, you heard what Rashid said. 'Your friend's life depends on your behavior.' I would appreciate it if you didn't do or say anything that's going to get me killed." Sam paused in his tirade, suddenly realizing what he'd just said. "That was a little egocentric," he decided.

"You think?"

"Josh, I�"

"Sam, Raj gave the White House twenty-four hours. I can do this."

Twenty-four hours. The prospect of having to spend the next day in this cold, dingy room made Sam's stomach churn. Yet at the same time, it occurred to him that in twenty-four hours, his death warrant would be signed. "Twenty-four hours," he whispered.

"Hey." Josh laid a hand on his shoulder. "We're gonna make it. Trust me."

Sam saw the look on his friend's face. Josh really believed it. He wished he could be so sure. Maybe Josh had seen something hopeful in Rashid. Maybe there was a chance. Maybe...

"All right."

The door burst open once again and Mr. Don't Mess With Me My Gun is Bigger took a step into the room. This time he did motion with the gun.

"Guess visiting hours are over," Sam said. He tried to sound like it was no big deal, but when Josh squeezed his shoulder he knew something in his voice must have given his true feelings away.

Josh glanced over his shoulder at the terrorist, then turned back to Sam. "You give him the bloody nose?"

"Yeah."

"Good job."

An order came from the doorway.

As Josh headed for the door, a wave of panic hit Sam full force. Having his friend there gave him hope, and took away some of the endless uncertainty. He didn't want to lose that now. He took a step after him. "Josh."

Josh stopped and turned. "I'll be back," he promised.

The terrorist grabbed Josh's arm and pulled him from the room, passing him to two other men in the hallway.

The weapon was still on Sam, and so was the terrorist's gaze. The hatred in the man's eyes felt colder than the room itself. Desperately trying to keep still, Sam stood his ground, returning the icy glare. After a moment, the man said something low in his throat, then backed out and slammed the door.

Sam closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. He got the feeling that if it were up to the young terrorist, he would be dead already. He didn't want to be left alone in a room with that guy.

Now he was simply alone, and his mind began to wander.

Twenty-four hours.

 


	11. Shades of Grey 11

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 11  


A hand pressed into the center of his back and pushed him past the doorway to the dining room. Josh started to turn but was given another shove. He practically tripped over his own feet, and took a wide step to compensate.

He wasn't being taken back to Rashid. That was bad.

Josh was herded back toward the kitchen, then to the right behind the stairs. Ahead he saw the doorway of a room directly below Sam's. As they reached it, Josh stopped and turned to the guard. "Wait, where's Rashid?"

Either not understanding, or simply not caring, the man pushed Josh backward into the room, then reached for the doorknob. That was when it all came crashing down: His hopes, his plans, everything. What the hell had he been thinking? He had assumed he would be escorted back to Rashid so he could gallantly save the day. Now... Sam. Oh dear God. He'd asked Sam to trust him. If that trust was misplaced...

And yet...

What if Rashid knew what he was trying to do? Had he hit so close to the mark that Rashid could no longer talk to him?

"Rashid?" Josh called, rushing forward as the door closed.

The gun was in his face again.

Josh skidded to a stop, his upper body leaning back from the muzzle. 

"Okay, okay!"

As the door slammed shut, Josh pressed his palms to his forehead, then ran his fingers through his hair. When all else failed, goading usually worked...

"Rashid!" he shouted. "You're a coward!"

And he waited.

 

"Want some company?" CJ knew the answer before she asked the question.

"No."

She had walked Toby back to his office, needing his presence as much as she knew he needed hers. But there was a limit to Toby's tolerance. She could see the signs. The rigid stature, the clipped answers. He was ready to be alone.

"I'll be in my office for a while," she said. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

Toby nodded.

CJ tilted her head to the side, worry lines deepening at the corners of her eyes. She was so good with words. Why wouldn't they come now? A lump was forming in her throat. She swallowed it down.

The Communications Director was staring into Sam's office.

"Toby," she said.

He glanced at her for the briefest of moments. "Thank you, CJ."

It was a dismissal. It wasn't angry or harsh; it was a request to be left alone. CJ had known Toby a long time. She would be there when he was ready. With a quiet sigh, she headed for her office.

The halls were practically empty; most of the staff had gone home for the day. Those she did pass glanced at her with a look that told her they knew. Word had spread quickly. CJ stepped up her pace, wanting to get to the privacy of her office before someone decided to ask her questions. She didn't think she could handle it at the moment. She needed time to prepare.

A small sense of relief touched her when she saw her door just a few feet away. She made it to the threshold and stopped short, her relief replaced with...something else.

In one of the guest chairs before her desk sat Danny Concannon. He looked up, grasping the arms of the chair to push himself to his feet. "CJ," he said.

Throwing back her shoulders, CJ stormed behind her desk. "Not now, Danny," she snapped. "I don't know anything, so don't even ask." When there was no response, she looked up and saw the shock on Danny's face. She immediately regretted her tone.

"You think I came here as Press?"

The surprise and hurt in his voice melted CJ's reserve. Her shoulders slumped and she covered her eyes with a hand. "I'm sorry, Danny."

"Hey, it's okay."

She felt him move closer and lay a hand on her arm. His touch was so light, so tentative. He was uncertain. God, had she sounded that harsh?

CJ let her hand trail from her eyes down to her mouth and finally she met his gaze. He was worried about her. She could see it. She could feel it. Looking away a moment, CJ considered what to say, but again the words wouldn't come. She opened her mouth, but her bottom lip quivered. She pressed her lips together to stop it, then tried again.

"Shhh," Danny soothed. "You're going to have to talk about this at some point. But not now. Right now, you don't have to say anything."

Small spasms shook CJ's body as her façade began to crumple.

"Come here," Danny whispered, drawing her close.

His touch was no longer tentative. His arms slid around her back and held her, offering her solace without looking for anything in return. CJ gave herself to the embrace, finally allowing her tears fall.

 

 

 

"Toby?"

Toby remained still, his steepled fingers pressed against his lips. He'd thought everyone had gone. He thought he would be alone. He needed to be alone.

"Toby?"

Cathy's voice was quivering. She stepped into his darkened office, and approached his desk as though she was afraid he would leap up and bite her head off at any given moment. He didn't have the strength or the will power. He didn't even look at her. His gaze was unfocused as he stared past her into the middle distance.

Finally she reached the edge of the desk. "Is there anything I can get you before I go?"

"No," he mumbled past his fingers.

Ping.

Toby blinked his eyes into focus and looked at her.

"This really annoys Sam, you know?" Her fingers glided over the curve of the bellhop bell at the corner of his desk.

Toby shifted one hand to his lap, leaned an elbow on the arm of his chair and pressed his fist to his lips. "I know."

"It's funny...even though it really makes him crazy when you ring it, he still answers it every time."

Toby closed his eyes. It had been another of his infamous New Year's resolutions to find new ways of annoying his deputy. He could still see the look of pure indignation on Sam's face the first time he'd used the hop's bell. But Cathy was right. No matter how much it bothered Sam, he answered it every time.

It wasn't that Toby was trying to be mean. Mischievous, yes and...well...okay sometimes he was mean. But it broke up the monotony of having to work on the same speech day after day. Sam understood that. Sam put up with that. He was a good kid. A good friend. And now...

"Toby, please tell me everything is going to be okay."

He was grateful for the darkness to hide the wetness in his eyes. "Cathy..."

"I'm so scared."

Toby swallowed. This was going to be the longest twenty-four hours of his life. "Me too." Dear God, Sam, wherever you are, please be okay...

 


	12. Shades of Grey 12

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 12  


  
It was even colder now. He could hear the wind whipping through the alley outside the window. Just the sound alone was enough to make his teeth chatter.

Guess Josh wasn't able to get the coffee.

Huddled in the corner, Sam rubbed his arms with his hands, in an attempt to create warmth with the friction. It didn't help. With a shiver, he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. It was a tease. He didn't know what time it was, but he was sure at this point that he'd been up for nearly thirty-six hours. He'd spent last night in his office working on the President's next speech. Now, he just wanted to sleep. Strange though, it felt as if his legs wanted to run a marathon; he couldn't keep them still. Damn it. Stop.

He wanted to sleep, but he was afraid to�

Voices.

Sam lifted his head and watched the door. He waited, holding his breath. He could hear them in the hall. Only this time it was different. It sounded like...like...

'There is one fruit whose seeds are on the outside. Name it, please.'

Late night poker games at the White House...

'There are fourteen punctuation marks in Standard English grammar. Can anyone name them, please?'

...punctuated by inane trivia from the President.

'There are three words in the English language, and three words only,

that begin with the letters DW. Can anyone name them, please?'

It was a distraction, really. Although why, with his ability to count cards, the President thought he needed to use distraction to win was anyone's guess. Oh, he'd let one of them win now and again, but he always seemed to take home the biggest pot.

Sam smiled at the memory. Things had been so hectic through the holidays that they hadn't played for a while.

Laughter.

He missed those games, the laughter, the banter, even the inane trivia. He could almost smell the sweet-pungent aroma of his Monte Cristo cigar. He could hear CJ's snide remarks about what they were doing to his health. It was the only time he smoked, for Pete's sake. But it was nice to know she cared.

His eyelids were so heavy. Sleep...

So cold.

Guess Josh couldn't get my coat either.

Josh. He was so sure he could talk Ahmad out of this.

So sure.

So...

 


	13. Shades of Grey 13

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 13   
Briefcase in one hand and coffee mug in the other, Bartlet nodded to the Marine who held the door open for him and stepped into the office of his Executive Secretary.

"Morning, Mr. President."

"Morning, Mrs. Landingham." He was grateful she had left out the 'good'. It wasn't a 'good' morning.

It hadn't been a good night, either. He hadn't slept at all.

"Mrs. Landingham, please clear my schedule of anything that is not mandatory, and tell Ron Butterfield I want him up here as soon as possible."

"Yes, Mr. President."

Bartlet stepped through the doorway into the Oval Office. Most mornings he felt a rush of energy the minute he stepped into the room. This was not one of those mornings. He set his briefcase on the desk and stepped over to the paned glass door to the Portico. He gazed out across the South Lawn, the steam from his coffee turning the glass opaque.

Somewhere out there, a bird shared its morning song. Somewhere out there, DC was coming to life with the hustle and bustle of a new day. Somewhere out there, two young men were praying to come home...

"Mr. President?"

Jed saw Leo's reflection in the glass. "You're up early."

"It doesn't constitute 'up early' if you never went to bed in the first place," his best friend commented.

"I hear you." He took a sip of coffee. "It's snowing."

"For about an hour now."

Jed turned to his Chief of Staff. Leo might have been up all night, but he had managed to change his suit. Any outsider wouldn't have noticed how tired he was, but Jed could. He could see it in the way Leo rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, the way his shoulders slumped just a little.

And yet, Leo was regarding him with great concern. Leo McGarry was indispensable.

"No news, I suppose." It wasn't a question; Jed knew there wasn't. He would have been notified immediately.

"No."

Jed took another sip of coffee. "This should never have happened to them, Leo. It should never have happened."

Leo stepped up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "The one thing we have going for us is that it's an old friend of Josh's."

"I don't like ifs and maybes," Jed retorted, setting his mug on his desk. He turned toward the door and bellowed, "Mrs. Landingham! Get Ron Butterfield up here now!"

 

 

 

Josh pushed himself into a sitting position and rubbed at his bleary eyes. There was light, and a silhouette. He couldn't focus.

God, did I actually fall asleep?

He blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision. He needed to stay in control, to stay focused. A show of weakness would not be a good thing at this point. Josh stood up, swaying a little before getting his feet firmly beneath him.

Raj. The silhouette in the doorway was Raj. His old friend entered the room and walked up to him, studying him the entire way.

Josh didn't comment. The sight of Raj brought back the anger from the night before. Josh knew he would say something he would regret, so he kept quiet. For the moment.

Rashid stopped in front of him and held out an offering. Josh didn't need to see to know what it was. He could smell it. Coffee. Never in his life had he imagined coffee could smell so good. With only a slight hesitation, Josh accepted the cup.

The heat was almost searing, but he didn't care. It radiated up his arms, making him shiver and raising goose flesh. Josh allowed himself a sigh as some of his anger melted away. Maybe he had made some progress after all.

"Come on," Rashid said, nodding toward the door.

Josh followed Raj from the room, glancing briefly at the guard by the door. Not the friendly type, he decided. What the hell was Raj doing with these guys?

They turned the corner and Raj headed into the dining room. Josh stopped, his attention drawn to his left, to the stairs. His eyes followed a path up the steps. He could just see the corner of the door to the room where Sam was being held. He looked down at the coffee in his hand.

'Since you have an in with the head honcho, think you could get me my coat back? Or maybe a cup of coffee?'

'I'll see what I can do.'

"Raj, did you...can I...." Talk, Joshua! "I want to take this to Sam." He lifted the cup, watching Raj for a reaction.

One of Rashid's eyebrows arched slightly. His eyes narrowed as he considered the idea, then without a word, he brushed past Josh and headed up the stairs.

Taken aback by the wordless response, Josh hurried to follow, trying not to slosh the coffee as he took the stairs two at a time. He stopped short, balancing the cup, when he realized Rashid had paused at the top.

"Gabir," Raj called to Sam's guard, then jerked his head at the door.

Gabir. So Gun Guy's name was Gabir. Josh filed that information away for future use.

Gabir was not the friendly type either. Josh didn't miss the look of utter disgust on the younger terrorist's face when he saw Josh and the coffee. Gabir said something to Raj, whose retort was quiet but firm. His face scrunching into a sneer, Gabir fished a key from his pocket and opened the door.

Rashid swept an arm, inviting Josh to proceed. Josh nodded his thanks as he passed, and stepped into the room.

Sam was sitting in the corner across the room, his eyes wide, his gaze on the door. His hands were braced on the walls to either side as if in preparation to launch himself to his feet.

"Sam?"

Sam's arms dropped to his sides, his fingers hitting the floor with a soft rap. His chest flattened and his shoulders fell as he released the breath he'd been holding.

"Hey," Josh offered as he closed the distance between them and hunched down beside his friend.

"Hey," Sam replied, a relieved smile tugging at his lips. "Good to see you."

Josh grinned. "You too." He held out the cup. "Brought you something."

He watched Sam's smile broaden. There was the smile that belonged to his best friend: the one with the dimples that drove the women in the West Wing nuts. That was Sam Seaborn. Josh was glad his friend was still in there, behind the cold and the fear.

Sam took the cup in his hands, and his eyes drifted closed. A contented sigh followed.

"You're supposed to drink it," Josh tried to tease, but his voice seemed to squeak. Pangs of guilt were stabbing him in the gut. Sam's normally clean-shaven face was stubbled, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Josh knew he probably didn't look any better himself, but that didn't matter. Right now, all that mattered was Sam.

"I think I'll just hold it for a little while," Sam said.

Moving out of instinct, Josh brought his arms up, intent on hugging his friend. He thought better of the idea in mid-motion; they had an audience. He shifted the motion. His right arm hung awkwardly in midair for a moment before he let it fall, but his left hand settled on the side of Sam's head, over his ear.

Sam started at the touch. His eyes opened with a look that was almost...pleading. Josh tried not to wince as someone twisted the knife that was already making mincemeat of his gut.

"Hang in there, buddy," he said, giving Sam's head a pat. He started to get up, but Sam's voice stopped him.

"Josh?"

He turned back, his eyebrows raising in question.

"Thanks."

Josh offered the best smile he could before standing.

Leaving the room was one of the hardest things he had ever done.


	14. Shades of Grey 14

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 14  


The dining room was at least ten degrees warmer than the rest of the house. It still wasn't all that warm, but it was enough to make Josh shuddered at the shift in temperature. He glanced at the nearest guard. "Guess you guys aren't too fond of the cold, huh?"

It was Raj who answered. "They are here to do a job, not to be concerned with the cold." He stopped by the long table and picked up a piece of cheese from the platter at its center. "Sit down. Eat."

Josh approached the table. The platter held a combination of cheese, fruit and nuts. He shook his head. He was too nauseous to eat. Besides, even if he wanted to, he couldn't possibly eat knowing that Sam had nothing. "I'll pass. Thanks."

Raj shrugged, popping the bite-size morsel into his mouth.

Josh pulled out a chair, turned it, and then straddled it, leaning his arms on the backrest. "How did you get mixed up with these guys in the first place?"

"I told you," Raj said, "they were hired for the job." He sat across from Josh and reached for a strawberry,

"You didn't know any of them before hand?"

"Not all of them. Is there a point to this line of interrogation?" His eyebrows arched in curiosity as he took a bite of the fruit.

"My point is this�" Josh glared at his old friend. "When you give somebody a gun, you better be damn sure you can trust them."

Raj stopped chewing.

Ah-ha! Got him. Josh continued before he lost his momentum. "I worked for Bartlet for two years before we reached the White House. In that time we got to know each other, trust each other, learned to work together. That's what makes us a winning team. It's what makes the White House work."

Raj chuckled. "You've had your share of losses."

Josh rolled his eyes. "You're missing the point."

"I know what you are trying to do, Joshua." Raj leaned forward, smiling. "You are trying to instill doubt. Just as you did in Debate. It won't work. My men and I have a common goal." He tapped his right index finger on the table for emphasis, his smile fading. "When you put an army together, do all the men know each other? No. Are they friends? No. But they work towards a common goal. They fight for a common cause."

"Don't you think it makes a difference whether the guy watching your ass likes you or not?"

"When an army rushes a position, men fall. The rest keep going. The White House will keep going without you, Josh. Whether you like it or not. But that won't be the end of the battle."

Josh opened his mouth, then closed it. The White House would go on without him? Was that a threat? It suddenly occurred to him that he had never won a debate against Raj. They had always ended up in a stalemate.

Josh sighed. "You know, I often wondered what you were doing. I thought you might have opened your own law firm, or gone into politics. I never thought you'd end up a terrorist."

"A terrorist?" Raj snorted in derision, sitting back in his chair. "Is that what you think I am?"

"Well...yeah." Josh didn't need to say 'duh'. His tone said it for him.

"I didn't strap a bomb to myself and walk into the White House."

Josh reached out and rapped on the tabletop. "Hello?" He resisted the urge to ask if anyone was home. "Terrorism is the act of using fear to coerce someone into doing what you want. By kidnapping us, you're trying to scare President Bartlet into letting Riaz go. That's terrorism, Raj. Look it up!"

Rashid shook his head, but it was more a gesture of pity than disagreement. "Terrorism goes way beyond the dictionary definition, Joshua. There is an element of fanaticism involved. I don't want to die here."

"Then let me help you!"

Rashid laughed. "Everything with you is so black and white. Never any shades of grey. You're so naive, Josh."

With a frustrated sigh, Josh covered his face with his hands. He was getting nowhere. How many hours did he have left? It was going to be a long day...

 

 

"Mr. President?"

Jed looked up from the notes he was reviewing with Leo. Mrs. Landingham was standing in the doorway with Ron Butterfield behind her. Jed gave his secretary a nod as he walked toward them.

Jed was the first to admit that he was not a patient man. The fact that Ron had kept him waiting for half an hour was unbelievable. Had it not been for Leo's quiet reassurances, Jed knew he would be ballistic at this point.

"Ron�" He cut off the reprimand. Butterfield stepped into the Oval Office, but he was not alone.

"Mr. President," the Secret Service Agent said, "I apologize, sir. I got a phone call from Rob this morning. We have information."

Jed stopped, his eyebrows climbing. "Good news, I hope?" He glanced from his Chief Agent to Rob Conrad, the Director of the CIA.

"We know where they are, sir," Conrad said after a brief pause.

There was something wrong. "What aren't you telling me?" Jed asked, feeling Leo step up beside him.

Conrad cleared his throat. "We've known where Riaz's people are for about six months now, sir."

"What?!" Leo shouted before Jed could respond.

So much for the calming presence.

"Six months ago we were alerted to their activity," Conrad explained. "We had them under surveillance for four months but there was no illegal activity. Two months ago, we put them on intermittent surveillance. They did nothing wrong."

"Until now." Jed folded his arms across his chest.

"Yes, sir."

"So I guess they weren't under that intermittent surveillance when two of my staff members were dragged into...wherever they are?!" Jed could feel his blood pressure rising.

"No, sir."

"Now let me ask you something else..." Jed pierced Conrad with a glare. "If we know where they are, what the hell are we doing standing in my office discussing it?!"

"Our men are downstairs as we speak, sir," Ron said quickly. "Tom Connolly's there too. We're mapping out a plan of action. The local police have been notified. We'll be ready to move in an hour."

"See that you are."

The two agents turned to go.

"Ron." Jed waited until Butterfield turned back to face him. "Get them out of there alive, Ron."

Butterfield heaved a sigh. Jed could almost hear what he was thinking. 'We'll try, Mr. President.' 'We'll do our best, Mr. President.' But Ron was too good a man not to say exactly what Jed wanted to hear. Jed wasn't disappointed.

"Yes, Mr. President."

 

 

Josh was pacing. His throat was raw. He wasn't sure how long they'd been at this, but it had to be over an hour. This was ridiculous. It was insane. His head was going to explode.

"Are you listening to me?" He tried not to yell. "Have you heard a word I've said?"

Rashid rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. "Every single word, Joshua. And you're giving me a headache."

"Good!"

"I knew this was a bad idea."

Josh wheeled on him. "Why? Why, Raj? The same reason you had me locked up last night? What's the matter, Raj? Afraid I'm going to break through that barrier you've built up?"

"Josh..."

There was a warning in Raj's voice, but Josh plowed right over it.

"You know what, Raj? You're being used! Just as much as you're using Sam and me. Riaz used you to get to me. But it's not as easy as you thought, is it? And where do you go from here? I'll tell you, Raj. Straight to hell!"

Rashid's chest was rising and falling rapidly. "Don't push me, Josh."

"Is that another threat?" He was yelling now. His throat was on fire, but he didn't care. This was crazy. "'Cause I'm telling you, Raj, I'm tired of the threats. This isn't going to work! The President isn't going to negotiate!"

"Then you are a dead man."

Josh could feel himself shaking with rage. "Oh, that's just great. Just great, Raj! Well, when the time comes, you should pull the trigger."

Rashid stood up so fast his chair clattered to the floor. He glowered at Josh from across the table. Josh could see him shaking.

"What's the matter, Raj? Is that not in your job description? Oh, that's right. You have hired guns to do your dirty work. You're a coward. I never would have believed you could do this."

A stream of Urdi shot from Rashid's mouth, the sentence punctuated by his fist striking the table.

Josh could barely catch his breath. He breathed in through his nose, trying to suppress a cough. Oh, yeah. He'd struck a nerve. It just needed time to sink in...

Footsteps pounded on the stairs outside the door. Josh turned toward the sound. The guard was gone. Oh, God! No!

He whirled back to find Rashid holding out the cell phone.

"Call your President, Joshua." Raj's voice was low. "Call him now."

 

 

Sam pressed his hands against the door and turned his head to one side trying to distinguish the words. Josh was yelling. That wasn't a good sign. When Josh got this upset, he said things...

"...Straight to hell!"

...things he was going to regret. When Josh was this upset, he didn't think before he opened his mouth...

"The President isn't going to negotiate!"

Jesus Christ, Josh, shut up!

There was more, but Sam couldn't�

A new voice. Shouting. Rashid? Oh, shit...

Footsteps pounded on the stairs.

Oh, shit.

Voices outside the door.

Sam backed away, shaking his head. This wasn't happening. Josh...

The door opened. Sam caught his breath. Gun Guy was there, and someone else. They moved towards him.

"Wait!"

He kept backing away until he hit the wall. There was nowhere to go.

"No, please! Wait!"

Gun Guy grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him away from the wall. His arms were pulled behind his back.

Jesus, they're going to tie me, Sam realized in a panic. He yanked from their grasp and turned.

Gun Guy was there too fast. Sam couldn't escape the backhand to his face that sent him reeling to the right. He tasted blood.

And like a shark on the scent, Gun Guy was on him.

A fist slammed into Sam's midsection, doubling him over and driving the air from his lungs. Something hit him between the shoulder blades with such force it knocked him flat on the floor.

His arms were yanked behind his back again. This time he couldn't fight it. There was pressure on his back, pinning him to the floor. He couldn't breathe. The blood in his mouth was making him sick. He spit it out.

He managed to gasp in a few short breaths, but it wasn't nearly enough. His vision was darkening around the edges. What was taking them so long? Just get it over with.

Sam's fingers flexed and curled, the only part of his body he could still move freely. He felt something wind around his wrists, not rope, not tape. What was it? There was a ratchet sound as the binding was tightened.

Finally, the pressure eased on his back.

The surge of air his lungs tried to draw in made him cough, sending a wave of pain through his gut. He tried to curl up, but the instant he moved, they were on him again.

A hand grabbed his hair and another his collar. He was hauled to his feet, and found himself face to face with Gun Guy. He could feel himself trembling; he couldn't stop it. But he refused to look away.

Gun Guy moved. His weapon came up.

Sam winced as the muzzle pressed into the soft flesh beneath his chin. His head was being forced back. He felt the rifle move.

Oh, God...

"Bang!"

Sam jerked at the shout, a startled cry escaping his lips.

They were laughing at him. The sick bastards were laughing at him.

"You son of a bitch," he spat, the blood from his lips spattering Gun Guy's face.

He prepared himself for another blow, but it didn't come. Gun Guy was smiling.

The rifle was pulled away, and Gun Guy stepped impossibly closer. "You die," he said.

He spoke English.

"Oh, God, please..." Sam pleaded as he was hauled from the room.


	15. Shades of Grey 15

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 15  


Josh's heart slammed against his ribcage. "Raj, please. Leave Sam alone."   
"Too late for that. Make the call, Joshua. Do it now."

Josh turned his head towards the door. He could hear the sounds of a scuffle. Oh, God, Sam, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...

"Joshua!"

Jerking his attention from the noises upstairs, Josh grabbed the phone from Rashid. His hands shook as he pushed the buttons for the Oval Office's direct line.

He waited through two long rings before a familiar voice answered. Only it wasn't the one he wanted...

"Mrs. Landingham," he said, "I need the President now."

"Josh?" said the worried voice in his ear.

"Now, Mrs. Landingham, please. Just get him."

Instantly, there was a click and then silence. All he could do was wait...and pray.

More noise from upstairs. Laughing. Sam...

Rashid came around to Josh's side of the table, an eyebrow raised.

"He'll be here, Raj. Just...wait."

Footsteps on the stairs. Josh held his breath, watching the doorway.

Sam was hustled into the room, Gabir on one side, the guard from this room on the other. Gabir had Sam by the hair. The son of a bitch. Josh took one step towards them, but stopped when Gabir shouted a warning and jammed his weapon into Sam's neck.

Sam gasped. His lips formed words, but no sound came out. There was blood at the corner of his mouth, and on his chin, drops of which had stained his white shirt red above the monogram on his breast pocket.

My fault. This is my fault.

Pick up the damn phone already!

Raj was moving again, step by step toward Sam. He walked behind Gabir,

behind Sam, until he was next to the other guard. His eyes locked with Josh's, Raj held out his hand and spoke to the guard.

The guard released Sam's arm. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a handgun, and placed it in Raj's hand.

No.

Gabir was smirking. He let go of Sam and lowered his weapon.

The silence on the other end continued.

Gabir kicked the back of Sam's legs. Sam collapsed to his knees. He was visibly shaking now, his face pale. Finally, his eyes met Josh's.

The expression asked why. Sam wanted to know why.

Josh opened his mouth, then closed it again. I don't know, Sam. I'm sorry. I thought�

Rashid moved behind Sam and pressed the muzzle of the gun to the back of Sam's head.

"Oh...God." Sam squeezed his eyes closed.

"Raj," Josh begged, "please don't do this."

Josh thought he saw a tear slip down one pale cheek.

This can't be happening. This cannot be happening. Oh God, Sam. I'm�

"Josh?"

Josh closed his eyes in relief. "Mr. President, thank God�"

The gunshot was deafening.

 

 

 

Jed never ran through the halls of the White House, but he did walk fast. Very, very fast. It was nine o'clock in the morning; they had cut eight hours off their deadline. What the hell was going on?

Leo Toby and CJ were waiting for him in the Oval Office.

Jed didn't say anything. He had to focus. He wasn't prepared; no one had briefed him yet. Where the hell was Ron? Didn't he have to wait for Ron? He was the President of the goddamn United States. He didn't have to wait for anyone.

He punched the speaker button and opened the line. "Josh?"

"Mr. President, thank God�"

Bang!

"NO!" Josh screamed.

What the hell? That sounded like...No. Jed felt lightheaded. He must have swayed, because Leo was reaching for him.

The combination of the sound and the anguish in Josh's cry painted a picture he wasn't ready to accept.

Jed glanced at the faces around him. Toby was staring at the speaker, his lips pressed together. CJ was looking at Jed, her eyes asking questions for which he had no answers. Leo was hovering. God, did he look so bad that Leo had to hover?

"Sam...?" Josh's voice again, no more than a soft whimper.

Toby staggered back a few steps, shaking his head.

"Josh?" Jed demanded.

There was no reply.

"Josh?!"

"President Bartlet." It was the voice from before. Rashid. "You have one more hour and one more chance."

One more hour.

"Rashid?"

One more chance.

The line went dead.

"Damn it!"

Toby backed farther away. He hit the sofa, wavered, then caught himself. He looked like he was ready to pass out.

"Toby�" Jed began.

Toby shook his head again, emphatic. He lifted a finger to stay any conversation.

Jed knew that look. He wondered if he looked the same. Leo was still watching him, a deep frown dragging down the edges of his mouth.

It was so quiet. Were they waiting for him to say something? What could he say? What the hell could he possibly say?

Ron Butterfield burst into the room, followed closely by two other agents.

"Mr. President?" Ron asked.

'What did you do?' Ron's expression asked. I should have waited for you, Ron. I should have waited.

"I..." Don't say it. "I think they just shot Sam."

Oh, Lord. He said it. Saying it out loud seemed to cement it in reality.

It was too much for Toby. Before Jed could say anything more, Toby bolted from the room.

"CJ..." Jed said.

CJ didn't need any more urging. She hurried after Toby.

Jed stood behind his desk, his breathing becoming faster and faster.

They shot Sam.

His blood pressure was rising; he could feel his face turning red.

They shot Sam.

With a growl of rage, Jed turned and slammed through the door to the Portico and out into the cold winter air.

 


	16. Shades of Grey 16

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 16  


Toby paused in the outer office, searching desperately for an escape route. He was well aware that Charlie and Mrs. Landingham were watching him. It was a good thing they didn't say anything. He would have told them to shut up.

He started toward the hallway. Too many voices. Too many people. He needed to be alone. He needed...

He chose the nearest room. His body slammed into the door before his wrist could turn the doorknob. God damn it! Open! With a violent twist, he managed to get it open. Toby plunged into the darkness of the Mural Room.

Heaving for breath, he searched the nearby area for something to throw. It didn't matter what. He grabbed the nearest object and pulled back-

"Toby!"

The shriek startled him. He turned and saw CJ in the doorway. What the hell did she want? Her eyes were wide and she was gripping the edges of the doorframe as if to hold herself up.

Panting, Toby glanced at the item in his hand. It was a vase. An expensive looking one at that. Probably some priceless gift from a foreign diplomat. With what was left of his reserve, Toby put the vase down.

"Get out of here, CJ."

"Toby-"

"I said get out!" He didn't mean to shout. Yes he did. Didn't she understand? Didn't she know? Sam was dead! Sam was...

Oh my God...Sam's dead.

No.

There was a pain in his chest that took his breath away. His legs wobbled. He managed to make it to the ornate sofa before they gave out on him entirely.

No. It wasn't true. It couldn't possibly...

Sam.

The gunshot still echoed in his ears. Horrible images assaulted his mind.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

He pressed the heels of his hands to his temples, willing the images away. He didn't want to remember Sam that way.

He didn't want to have to remember Sam. He shouldn't have to. Sam should be there. Sam would be there if he hadn't let him go to lunch-

My fault.

Sam hadn't wanted to go. He had been searching for a way out. He'd given Toby the SOS, but Toby had thought it would be funny...

Funny.

Funny how things happen...

My fault.

A spasm of breath jerked his body.

There was a click from the door. Toby lowered his hands and looked over his shoulder. CJ was still there. She had closed the door and was leaning against it. He hated the way she was looking at him. Get out, CJ.

"Toby." Was she moving closer? He couldn't really see her any more. Just a blur.

"Sam's dead..."

"Toby, we don't know that-"

"He didn't want to go." My fault.

"Toby..."

"I bought this bell...thought it would be funny..." Funny how things happen.

Sam's dead.

He turned his back on CJ as the first tear fell. He didn't want her there. He didn't want her to see.

The sofa gave a small creak as she sat beside him, not too close.

"Toby, you have to let it out. It's okay. I'm here."

I don't want you here...I just...Oh God.

Toby covered his face with his hands and cried.


	17. Shades of Grey 17

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 17  


  
"Sam...?

Someone wrenched the phone from his hand. He couldn't move. His arm still hung out in midair as he waited.

Waited for Sam to fall.

"You have one more hour and one more chance."

Waited for the blood.

Sam...

Sam moved. He was...

Josh blinked his eyes into focus.

...breathing?

Slowly lowering his arm to his side, Josh held his breath as he watched his best friend.

Sam trembled, and his upper chest hitched with a breath.

He's not dead. Oh, dear God, thank you.

Relief lessened the ache in his gut, but the sudden primal urge to wrap his hands around Rashid's neck and squeeze vied for dominance. He turned his gaze to Raj.

"You fucking bastard. You sick son of a bitch. You�"

"What was that, Joshua?"

He chewed on more choice words, but kept them to himself. Josh found it was an effort to keep his lips from curling into a snarl. He averted his gaze; he couldn't look at Raj anymore. He focused on Sam.

More words from Raj. Not English. He was an American. Why didn't he speak English? It just wasn't Raj�

It wasn't Raj.

Sam was right. This wasn't Raj. His old friend was gone. He didn't know this man. How could he have been so wrong?

Gabir said something. No, Gabir growled something. He was pissed. Rashid silenced him with a single word, then took a few steps from behind Sam.

Sam started at the movement and opened his eyes, but his gaze was fixed on the floor.

Look at me, Sam, please...

Gabir grabbed hold of Sam's collar and hauled him to his feet. Sam choked and gasped as he was dragged toward the door.

"No!" They couldn't take Sam away. Not now. Not like this. Josh rushed forward, but once again found himself held at gunpoint. Only this time, it was Rashid holding the gun.

Sam was taken from the room; he didn't look back.

Josh fought to contain his anger. He looked at the walls, the ceiling, the floor...

There was a bullet hole in the floor. God damn bastard.

Watch your temper.

Focus.

"Okay, Rashid." He couldn't call him Raj anymore. It wasn't Raj. "You win. Is that what you wanted to hear? Fine. You win. But let me tell you something. Sam is my best friend. I don't know if you remember what that means, or what it feels like..." He paused as his voice caught in his throat. "...but there's nothing you can do, short of shooting me, that's going to keep me from going to him right now."

Josh drew a breath and held it...

I can do this. I can do this.

He turned his back on a man with a gun and closed his eyes.

No shot.

Josh opened his eyes and took a step, then another. He wanted to run, to duck out the door, but instead, he took another step.

There was no sound from behind him.

Just another step to the door...

He crossed the threshold, and was in the hall. Josh blew out a shaky breath as he headed for the stairs.

Don't look back. One step at a time.

The stairs seemed to go on forever. He didn't remember there being this many before. He resisted the urge to take them three at a time, but as he reached the last few, his resistance decayed. He leapt the last two stairs onto the second story and turned to Sam's room.

Gabir was blocking his path.

Josh wasn't in the mood for this. The door was still open. He could see Sam kneeling on the floor, his upper body bent forward. If Gabir had hurt him...

Then unexpectedly, Gabir stepped to one side, muttering under his breath. For a moment Josh wondered why. Then he saw Gabir's gaze was not on him, but looking past him. Josh turned.

Rashid was on the staircase, the gun tucked in his belt. Gabir pushed past Josh and stormed over to his boss.

Their argument wasn't Josh's concern. He rushed forward and fell to his knees at Sam's side.

The anger melted away, leaving only a strong urge to pull his friend into an embrace, to protect him from further harm. But Sam was still shaking. Josh settled for laying a hand on Sam' back. He could feel him breathing, feel his heart beating. Relief swelled again. It was enough to know he hadn't lost his best friend. "Oh my God, Sam, thank God you're all right. I was really scared there, you know? I really thought he had shot you. When I heard that gunshot..." He couldn't finish that thought out loud. When he heard that gunshot, he was back there...

Josh shook his head. This wasn't the time or the place to freak out. Sam needed him. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Nothing.

"You're okay, right? Did that Gabir guy hurt you? What did he do, Sam?" He scanned his friend for any obvious signs of injury, but in the room's dim light, it was hard to tell.

"Sam? Come on, buddy, talk to me."

Sam didn't respond.

Josh's gaze settled on his friend's bound hands. Shit. How stupid could he be? He should have untied Sam first.

"Hang on..." Josh shifted closer to his Sam's hands and pulled at the bonds. There was no give. Using both hands, he tried to pull the clasp open. It wouldn't budge.

God damn fucking plastic...

"Just...leave it."

Josh stopped, his fingers entwined in the serrated plastic zip tie. "Sam?"

"Just..."

The lack of resolve in Sam's voice made Josh work at the bonds with renewed determination. "Sam, I can�"

"Hurts...just...p-please."

Josh let go instantly, his hands shaking. He hadn't meant to cause Sam more pain. "Okay." He swallowed. "Okay."

"C-can't stop...sh-sha�"

"It's shock, Sam. It'll pass. You're okay. I'm here." He shifted back to the left and wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders, offering what little comfort he could.

"Why, Josh?"

Josh stopped breathing. He pulled his arm back, startled by the abrupt question. How could he answer that question? Did he even know the answer?

"You knew...but you...Why?"

His breath shuddered out. "Sam, I-I thought�"

"No." Sam cut him off, his voice sharper than before. He sat up slowly, turning his head toward Josh. His eyes were wet with unshed tears. "No, Josh, th-that's the problem. You...didn't think."

Josh stared at his best friend, not knowing what to say. He saw something in Sam's expression that went beyond fear and hurt. Something deeper...

"You...asked me to trust you..." Sam's voice was softer now, more distant.

Something...

"And...I d-did."

Josh had betrayed Sam's trust. His stomach rolled. He hadn't realized just how much faith Sam had in him. That realization only made Josh feel worse.

Sam blinked, freeing the tears at the corners of his eyes. He turned his head away. "I did..."

Josh laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Oh God, Sam, I'm sorry, I�"

Sam jerked at the touch, more a start than an escape, but still... "Just...go."

Josh's breath caught. He didn't believe what he had just heard. "Sam�"

"Josh...just go."

Josh withdrew his hand. His eyes glazed, he shifted back, shaking his head. No. This wasn't happening. It wasn't...

He stood and staggered back a few steps, moving slowly in hope that Sam would...would what?

'You're so naïve, Josh.'

Rashid's words haunted him. He had honestly believed he could talk Rashid out of this. Sam had known better. Sam had warned him. He hadn't listened. In trying to save an old friend, he'd nearly lost his best friend. How could he have been so stupid?

How could he explain it to Sam when he didn't know himself?

How could Sam ever forgive him?

Josh backed into the doorjamb and swiped at the wetness on his cheeks. He stepped back into the hall, hoping Sam would stop him. Sam didn't.

There was another guard in the hallway. Gabir wasn't there. The guard closed the door to Sam's room, but it was as if Sam had slammed the door in Josh's face. Maybe he had lost his best friend after all.

He stood in the hallway, his lungs heaving for breath. He struggled for control, but it was becoming harder and harder.

There was only one guard. Maybe he could take him. Then he could grab Sam and make a run for it. The door was a few feet from the base of the stairs, maybe...

If something happened to Sam he would never forgive himself.

He took a few steps and turned toward the stairs.

Rashid was still there. His right foot was on the staircase, his left leg hitched up as he sat on the railing.

Josh started down the stairs. Just a push would do it. Just a simple push and Rashid would be over the side and...

Two more steps brought him level with Rashid. Josh stopped. He inclined his head and took a deep breath, but he refused his old friend even the slightest glance.

Rashid didn't move.

Trust or overconfidence?

It would be so simple. Just a push, and Rashid would be dead.

Rashid would be dead, then the guard would shoot Josh, then Gabir would be in charge and Sam...

Josh took another step down.

Gabir would kill Sam. He was certain about that.

He took two more steps down.

Why didn't Rashid kill Sam?

Gabir would have killed him. Why didn't Rashid?

An enraged shout came from upstairs, followed by the rattle of automatic weapon fire.

Josh spun on the stairs, grabbing the railing for support.

And suddenly he was back in Rosslyn.

 


	18. Shades of Grey 18

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 18  


  
He was breathing, but he couldn't seem to draw enough air to fill his starving lungs. There was shouting from all around. Gunfire. Behind him, glass shattered. With a startled cry, Josh dropped to the stairs, covering his head with his arms. Something clattered to the floor.

Pop. Hiss.

More shattering glass from somewhere else. More gunfire. Too close.

Josh curled himself into a tight ball. There was a horrible, acrid smell. His nose and lips tingled, then burned.

There was a crash, and the sound of splintering wood.

Josh heard a soft whimper, and then realized it had come from him.

Shouting. English? Muffled...

"Cover me!"

Gunfire.

Josh curled himself up tighter.

"Hold it!"

"Don't move!"

Hurried footsteps. Someone bumped into his legs. A hand touched his arm. "No!" Josh rolled onto his back, knocking the hand away as he tried to clamber backward up the stairs. Another hand caught his wrist.

"Whoa, whoa! Mr. Lyman?"

Josh couldn't see. His eyes burned and he was blinking uncontrollably.

"It's Harvard! I've got Harvard!"

What? Harvard? Secret Service. Secret Service!

"You're covered! Get him out of here!"

The agent grabbed him, hauled him off the stairs. Shielded by the agent's body, Josh was hustled out the front door.

"N-o, wai-!" Josh choked on the words, his throat on fire.

He was handed off to someone else and rushed across the street. He still couldn't see.

"Josh?"

Ron. Josh waved, still coughing.

"Harvard is clear. Take 'em down."

Josh stopped moving, and grabbed at Butterfield. "No!" he managed to rasp out. "S-am!"

"Sam's alive?"

Josh nodded. "Up-up-stair�"

"Hold on, hold on! Princeton is alive! Repeat: Princeton is alive. Second level. Priority one!"

 


	19. Shades of Grey 19

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 19  


What the hell?

Sam struggled to his feet, wobbled a moment on numb legs.

There was gunfire. A lot of it.

What was going on?

Oh God. Josh was�

"Josh!"

Someone was coming; he could hear them approaching the door, walking, not running.

Sam backed toward to the farthest corner of the room, fear clutching his stomach.

The door creaked open slowly. Rashid stepped into the room, gun in hand, his face devoid of emotion. White-grey smoke swirled around his feet. He looked like...like...

"It's over," Rashid said.

Sam shuddered, licking at dry lips. This was it. At least he wouldn't die on his knees. Sam closed his eyes.

He started at the rapid succession of shots, too many for a handgun. He opened his eyes.

Rashid looked stunned. Sam watched, sickened, as the terrorist's shirtfront turned red. Rashid took a step toward him and instantly there was another round of fire. This time Sam saw it, saw the bullets explode from Rashid's chest. He saw the blood. So much blood. He could feel himself shaking again, repulsed but unable to look away.

Rashid convulsed. He looked at Sam, then pitched forward.

Sam stumbled back, cringing as the body hit the floor.

Then movement caught his eye and he dragged his gaze from Rashid's body to the figure in the doorway.

Gun Guy. The younger terrorist stalked toward him, stepping over Rashid's body on the way.

Sam couldn't move. He wanted to, but he couldn't. He was grabbed by the front of his shirt and dragged toward the door. The terrorist slammed him back against the wall with such force it knocked the air from his lungs and set his wrists on fire.

He heard shouting downstairs. He didn't recognize the voices, but he did recognize the words. It was a raid. Sam felt his heart pound faster. Oh, God, they'd found them!

Gun Guy muttered something, then released Sam long enough to jerk the spent magazine from his weapon. He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a new one.

Sam drew as deep a breath as he could. "Here! Up here! Help me, please!"

There was a clack, then something hit him just above his right temple and his head exploded in brilliant white light. Sam cried out, tears of fear, anger and frustration springing to his eyes. "Help me, please." The barely audible plea was all he could manage before a hand sealed his mouth and dragged him upright again.

Footsteps. Someone was coming up the stairs.

Sam shook his head as his captor peered around the doorjamb, his weapon poised.

Gun Guy pulled the trigger. There was a strangled cry, then a thump. More shouting.

Oh God. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. He's going to kill me.

Sam was terrified. He couldn't remember ever being this frightened before. He didn't want to die. There were so many things he wanted to do. So many things...

His gaze drifted downward to Rashid. There were black singe marks around the bullet holes in his back, but not much blood there. Not there. It was on the floor. It was spreading, tiny streams following the cracks in the wooden floor. It was coming toward him.

That was death. He could see it. He could smell it. He didn't want to die like that. He didn't want to die.

He was jarred from his thoughts when Gun Guy suddenly shifted his hand from Sam's mouth to his shirt. The terrorist turned him around, wrapped an arm around his chest and pulled him close, so that Sam's back was against his captor's chest.

Sam staggered, trying to get his legs to catch up with the abrupt movements. His foot slipped on the slick floor and he felt the muzzle jam into his throat again. "Don't�"

Gun Guy jabbed him harder. "You shut up!" he ordered.

Sam obeyed as his captor moved him out into the hallway. A horrible smell burned in his nose and his lips began to tingle. They passed another body, one of the terrorists. Sam's breathing quickened.

There was more smoke rising from downstairs. There wasn't as much gunfire anymore, just a few scattered shots that sounded like they were coming from outside.

Gun Guy reached the wall bordering the stairs.

"Don't move!"

"No!" Sam cried, suddenly confronted with another gun. This one was aimed directly at his chest by someone wearing a gas mask.

"Hold your fire, hold your fire!" the man ordered. "We have a situation."

A situation. A situation? Is that what you call this? No special code? How about a dilemma? An impasse? A quandary? A fucking problem?! Jesus...

Gun Guy pushed him forward, moving with him, using his body as a shield. He saw the man in the mask back down a few steps.

Don't go. Don't�

There was a body on the stairs. The back of the jacket read FBI. The FBI were the good guys. The good guys weren't supposed to die. He didn't want to die.

They moved steadily down the stairs, the man in the mask countering each step with one of his own. The smoke and the smell were worse down here. Sam's eyes burned. He could tell the front door was open. A cold breeze blew the smoke farther into the house. The bright light added to the discomfort in his eyes.

They reached the bottom of the stairs. Sam could feel his captor shaking. There were more men in masks. Three?

Please help me.

"Get�out!" the terrorist ordered. He choked on the words, his arm tightening around Sam's chest.

He's going to pull the trigger. Please don't go. Don't leave me.

But the men obeyed. One by one they moved outside.

Sam was inched toward the door, his captor keeping to the wall.

Gun Guy moved him over the threshold. Through the haze of tears, Sam could see the whirling lights of police cars and emergency vehicles. He could make out the indistinct shapes of people across the street.

Did Josh make it out? Was he there? Sam couldn't tell. He couldn't see faces, just blurs. Josh had to be okay. He had to. Was he seeing this? Josh shouldn't have to watch him die. He didn't want Josh to see him die.

The terrorist paused on the stoop. He was breathing hard. Sam could feel the warm breath on the back of his neck.

Why was it so quiet? Why didn't someone say something? What the hell were they doing? Somebody help me! Oh God, please, somebody help me...

His captor moved, forcing him down one step, then another.

Sam heard a pop that seemed to echo off the buildings. Gun Guy jerked him sideways. His hip hit the railing on the left side of the cement steps. His captor pushed him forward and he took another step down. But the terrorist kept going. Sam felt himself falling, but couldn't stop it.

Time seemed to slow. His captor's grip loosened and Sam tried to turn. If he could just�

Pain. Relentless, consuming pain...

They were beating him up again. Bobby Zane and his friends were ganging up on him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Dad said he should fight back, but how? Four against one just wasn't fair. They were holding his arms. He couldn't move his arms. They hit him again and again. There wasn't a part of his body that didn't hurt.

Then suddenly it was over. They were gone. He was lying on his back, but he didn't remember hitting the ground. He lay there exhausted, gasping for breath. He would get up in a minute. Just a minute. He just needed to rest. It hurt to move. God, it hurt. Just a minute. Just...

 


	20. Shades of Grey 20

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 20  


The tailgate was cold, but he didn't care. He wanted to be able to get up as quickly as possible when they brought Sam.

Josh took a slow, deep breath, trying to take in as much oxygen as he could without coughing this time. Nice and easy. Okay.

Another coughing fit ravaged his raw throat.

Shit.

"Take it easy, sir." The EMT placed a hand on his back and rubbed gently. Her other hand steadied the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.

"Slow, steady breaths. You got quite a lungful of tear gas."

Josh nodded his thanks as the coughing subsided.

"You'd be warmer inside the ambulance, sir," she advised, picking up the edge of the blanket that had slipped from his grasp. She pulled it over his shoulder and tucked the edge into his hand.

"Josh," he croaked. He hated when people called him 'sir'.

"I'm Beth," she said, allowing him to take hold of the mask.

He held it, frustrated with the ministrations. At least he could see again-for the most part. He could see the main road several yards away. The ambulance was parked on a side street, out of the line of fire. A Secret Service agent stood a few feet away, making sure he was safe.

He was safe. Sam was still out there.

So he watched, and waited.

He was tired of waiting. What the hell was taking them so long? The gunfire sounded more intermittent. They should be bringing Sam to the ambulance any minute now.

Any minute...

He was tired of waiting.

He felt a hand under his chin and he turned his attention to the EMT as she titled his head back and examined his eyes.

"They still burn?" she asked.

"A little."

"They'll rinse them out better once you get to the hospital. They're red and a little swollen, but there's no damage. You'll be fine."

He heard people running. He gently pulled his face from the Beth's hands and peered around her at the street. Half a dozen uniformed police ran by. Something was wrong. He glanced up at his chaperone. The agent saw it to, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. Then his head tilted and his eyes shifted from side to side. He was hearing something, something from that thing in his ear.

Josh pulled the mask from his face. "What is it? What's going on?"

The agent glanced at him, but quickly looked away.

Shit.

Josh stood so fast it startled Beth. Letting the blanket fall to the ground, he ran to the corner of the building.

"Mr. Lyman, you can't�"

The hell I can't.

He could hear the agent coming after him, but he didn't spare the man a glance. He ducked around the corner and scanned the crowd for Ron Butterfield. He spotted the agent standing beside a blue van parked across the street from the brownstone. Ron was talking with someone. As Josh drew closer, he recognized Rob Conrad of the FBI.

Ron lifted a walkie-talkie to his mouth. "Are the sharpshooters in place?"

Sharpshooters?

Josh stopped. Between the police cars and emergency vehicles he could see the front of the building where he'd been held for nearly twenty-four hours. Several agents backed down the stairs, their guns leveled on the doorway. Josh took a step toward the curb.

Two more figures emerged onto the front stoop. His eyes drifted out of focus. Sam. He was sure it was Sam and...Gabir. Oh God.

"No," he said on a breath.

Gabir had Sam.

Someone took hold of his arms from behind. Secret Service.

"Mr. Lyman�"

"Get off!"

To his left Ron lifted the walkie-talkie to his mouth. "Take him out."

What?! What about Sam?! "No!"

Ron's head whipped around and he sent a glare in Josh's direction. "Get

him the hell out of here!"

"Yes, sir."

Josh fought as the agent tried to steer him back toward the side road. He heard the shot. The sound tore through him with as much force as a bullet. He whirled, wrenching himself free. He only made it a few paces toward the curb before the agent latched onto him again, but it was far enough to see best friend lurch sideways, still in the grip of his captor...far enough to see them fall forward and tumble down the steps. Sam landed first; Gabir tumbled over him. Neither of them moved.

Josh held his breath. Come on, Sam. Come on. Move. Get up. Please...

"Mr. Lyman..."

"Get in there, people! I need cover fire!"

"Mr. Lyman, please."

The agent was pulling him back. He couldn't see Sam anymore. His eyes were blurry again.

A rattle to his right caught his attention to the side street. The ambulance driver and a second EMT were standing by with a gurney. That was the last thing he heard. A sudden rush of heat enveloped him, as if his blood was boiling over.

The Secret Service agent's grip tightened on his arms. He must have swayed.

A large blur passed by, stopping at the corner. Josh rubbed his eyes until they focused. There was a crowd around the gurney.

"Easy, easy."

"I've got him."

"Hang on."

"What's his name?"

"Sam Seaborn."

"Sam, can you hear me?"

Sam.

Josh moved before he even thought about it. It took him a moment to realize his agent had let him go. The other agents cleared out, leaving the EMTs to do their work. Josh was within three paces of the gurney when someone stepped in front of him.

"Give us a minute, okay? Josh?" It was Beth. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response. He nodded. With a nod of her own, she turned and knelt by the gurney.

Josh returned his gaze to his best friend. There was a collar around Sam's neck.

"Was he hit?"

"I don't know."

Hit? No!

Sam's eyes were open, but they looked glassy. He stared up at the sky, blinking lazily like someone ready to drift off to sleep. But there was something...

Josh blinked. He took a few steps toward the foot of the gurney to get a better view. That was when he saw the blood. The right side of Sam's face was covered with blood. "Oh, God."

"Secure! Let's go!"

The gurney moved.

Someone took his arm.

"Come on, Josh. You're coming too," Beth said.

Josh took a faltering step before the meaning of her words became clear. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the haze. He got his feet moving, then running.

He thought he heard the thrum of a helicopter. Or was it his heart? It didn't matter.

He climbed into the back of the ambulance and settled himself in the passenger side corner, his focus on Sam. The interior darkened slightly as the rear doors were closed. Within moments, they were moving, the wail of the siren both reassuring and frightening.

There was an oxygen mask on Sam now, and a bandage on his head. When had they done that? He hadn't seen them do that. He listened to their words, but they didn't mean a thing. BP is low? Come on, Sam. Equal and reactive pupils. That was good...wasn't it?

"Sam, can you hear me?" the other EMT asked.

Josh thought he saw Sam nod once. "Is...is he going to be o-okay?"

No one answered him. Had he asked out loud? How long was it to GW?

It didn't matter. It was too long.


	21. Shades of Grey 21

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 22  


She hated this place. She hated the stark whiteness and the smell. But more than anything, she hated the memories it stirred.   
As Toby and CJ headed for the nurses' station, she glanced down the long corridor of emergency rooms, desperate to see Josh and Sam, but terrified of what she'd find. They hadn't told her anything.

Donna gripped Cathy's hand a little tighter as she started down the hall.

Please, God, let him be okay. Please let him be okay...

She let go of Cathy's hand and walked faster. She had to know. She couldn't wait anymore. She was practically running, peering into each room as she passed.

Wait.

Donna stopped and backed up. There was someone lying on an examination table, partially obscured by a curtain. She knew those shoes, and those pants. She had just had that suit cleaned...God, was it only two days ago?

"Josh," she said, barely a whisper.

He sat up abruptly, turned and swung his legs over the side to face her. He slid to the edge then hopped off the table.

His face was stubbled with a day's growth of beard, his shirt was hanging open and the tee shirt beneath it wasn't tucked in.

She stood in the doorway just looking at him, her legs refusing to move. Once she managed to take the first step, the rest were easy. She ran to him and Josh's arms enveloped her. She lost control. She didn't want to cry, but she couldn't stop. He needed a shower, but she didn't care. At that moment, he was the most wonderful thing she had ever smelled.

"Hey, it's okay," he said softly into her hair. "I'm all right."

And his voice was the most wonderful thing she had ever heard.

She was vaguely aware of the others gathering around them. Josh shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but he held onto her. They were talking, but all she could really hear was Josh's heart beating. Thump-thump, thump-thump. It lulled her. She didn't want to move.

A sudden change in the beat startled her and she pulled back to look up at him. He was looking at Toby.

"I don't know," Josh said. "They haven't told me anything."

Sam. They were talking about Sam.

Josh's eyes were red, and there were tiny blotches around them, like a rash.

He glanced down at her and offered a smile. "Tear gas," he said. "I'll be fine."

How did he always know what she was thinking?

His arms slipped from around her. She grabbed his hand, needing the contact. A part of her still couldn't believe he was really here, that it was really over.

Josh didn't try to pull free; he squeezed her hand tighter as if needing the contact himself. He gave CJ a one-armed hug.

Donna wiped her cheeks with her left hand and attempted to compose herself.

"Mr. Lyman?"

There was a man in a white coat standing in the doorway.

"Doctor Powell," Josh said, "how's Sam?"

"He's in x-ray right now."

"X-ray...?" Cathy echoed.

"Just a precaution," the doctor explained.

"Doc, was he...did he...?"

Donna gave Josh's hand a squeeze as his voice faltered.

"I examined his head wound. I think I can say for sure that Mr. Seaborn does not have a bullet in his head. He's responding to stimulus. He's aware. It could be a graze, but I doubt it. Too jagged. I think it's a laceration. We'll know for certain once we have the x-rays. If that's the case, he'll need a few stitches. He has a dislocated shoulder, and bruises and abrasions, the worst of which were on his wrists. There could be more, but, like I said, we'll know when we get the x-rays."

Donna was sure her fingers were turning blue. She wondered if Josh knew how tightly he was holding her hand. But as the meaning of the doctor's words sank in, the Josh's grip loosened and he sighed.

"When can we see him?" Toby asked.

"I'll let you know," the doctor said. "In the meantime, Mr. Lyman, how are your eyes?"

"Fine."

"Okay. I want you to see your own doctor in a few days, just to be sure. You're free to go. Just stop by the nurses' station to sign some paperwork."

"Doc-"

The doctor smiled. "I'll come and get you in the waiting room."

CJ and Toby followed the doctor from the room. Donna waited for Josh to move, but he didn't. When she glanced up at him, she found he was looking at her. He was looking at her like he hadn't seen her in weeks. She suddenly felt very warm.

"What?" she asked.

A smile played over his lips as he shifted his gaze to the doorway. He let go of her hand and draped his arm around her shoulders. "Nothing. Come on."

 


	22. Shades of Grey 22

 

***********************  
Shades of Grey  
Part 22  


  
Josh signed the last form then put the pen down. It was a good thing Donna was still with him - she'd had to read most of the form to him. Although his eyes felt better, they were still too blurry for the fine print. 

Well, that was done. Now what? 

All he could do was wait. 

"All set?" Donna asked. 

Josh turned and glanced down the corridor of emergency rooms, then at the door leading to the waiting room. Once he stepped through that door he was no longer a patient. Once he stepped through that door, he wouldn't be able to get back in until the doctor came to get them. 

"Uh..." He looked at her. "Give me a minute, okay?" 

Her brows drew together for a moment, and then the look softened. She stroked his arm. "All right." 

Josh smiled his thanks, grateful she understood. 

Donna took his hand and gave it a squeeze. She backed up several steps until she was holding him at arms length then turned and let go. 

He watched until she was through the door, then he started down the hall. 

He had to find Sam. 

 

Everything was a blur. There was a lot of white. And faces. Too many faces. He didn't recognize any of the faces. Who were these people? What did they want? 

They had stopped moving. Every time they stopped moving they hurt him again. 

God, it hurt. He was tired of hurting. 

He was so tired. 

"What's your name? Can you tell me your name?" 

A new voice. He hadn't heard that man's voice before. 

What? My name? My name... 

"S-Sam Seaborn." 

"Good. I'm Dr. Wu. How old are you, Sam?" 

"Thirty...thirty-two." 

"Who do you work for?" 

Who do I work for? Toby. Where's Toby? Toby, help me, please. 

"Who do you work for, Sam?" 

"The...President." 

"Who is the President, Sam?" 

You don't know? Jeez. "B-Bartlet." 

A harsh light drilled into his eyes, but squinting hurt worse. He turned his head away. 

"Hold still, Sam. I need you to hold still." 

Hands took hold of his head, and turned it slowly face up again. Fingers probed a delicate area of his scalp and he gasped. 

Please stop. Please... 

"Peg, hold his head still." 

No! Leave me alone! 

"Sam? I need you to hold still. You need some stitches here. Can you hold still for me?" 

Stitches. Doctor. A hospital? Why am I in a hospital? 

He nodded, trying to focus on the doctor's face. 

Something cold brushed over the area the doctor had just probed. The pain began to fade. 

He concentrated on the noises around him; drawers opening and closing, the rattle of a cart, the clank of metal. There was beeping too, a soft beeping that lulled him with its steady rhythm. 

Why was he in a hospital? He didn't remember an accident or anything. He remembered being at work, and... Josh. Something to do with Josh. His stomach flipped at the thought, but he didn't understand why. 

Toby would know what happened. He needed... 

There was a tug near his scalp, then another. 

"You okay, Sam?" 

"Toby." 

"Who's Toby?" 

My boss. My... "Friend." 

"We'll find him for you, Sam. Just relax." 

Relax. Right. 

Another tug. 

The light was warm. It felt good. 

Tug. 

He was tired. So tired... 

 

If he just closed his eyes for a moment. Only a moment... 

No. If he closed his eyes, he wasn't sure he would be able to open them again. Right now, the wall was the only thing keeping him on his feet. He lifted his head from where it rested against the cool white surface, then let it drop back. The impact did wonders for the ache already pounding behind his eyes. 

He needed to know Sam was okay. Once he knew that he could relax. But not until� 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement in the doorway to his left. Josh pulled his hands from his pockets and used them to push off the wall. The doctor left Sam's room and headed down the hall. A burst of energy got Josh into the room. 

A nurse adjusted the drip on Sam's IV, and then turned. She stopped when she saw him standing just inside the doorway. "Toby?" she asked in a hushed voice. 

Caught off-guard, Josh turned and glanced around, thinking maybe the Communications Director had come in behind him. There was no one there. He turned back to the nurse. "Uh, no. I'm Josh." 

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "Mr. Seaborn asked for Toby, so I just assumed�" 

"He asked for Toby?" 

She nodded. "When Dr. Wu was putting in his stitches. Then he fell asleep." 

He asked for Toby, not me. 

"Can I help you?" 

"I just-I came in with Sam." Josh took a breath. His chest tight and his stomach in knots, he continued, "Nobody's told me anything. I needed to know he was okay." 

"I believe Dr. Powell went to the waiting room to give you an update." 

Josh took a few steps closer to Sam. "I'll just wait here until he comes back." 

"If he wakes up, try to keep him still." 

He nodded, watching her leave the room. Once she was gone, he turned back to Sam and stepped up beside the table. 

There was still some blood in Sam's ear, and some in his hair. His head was turned away, giving Josh a good view of the cut. It looked so small. How could something so small bleed so much? The memory alone was enough to make him shudder. 

Clearing the image from his mind, Josh took comfort in the steady rise and fall of his best friend's chest. The IV pole held two bags, both of which contained clear liquid. Sam's wrists were bandaged, and his left arm was in a sling. Several ice packs lay on his shoulder. 

Just what Sam needed - something else to make him cold. 

He reached out, paused, reached a little farther, until finally his hand made contact with Sam's right arm. Still cold. He thought he felt a shiver. 

"Sam?" he said softly. 

There was no response. Josh wanted to tighten his grip on Sam's arm, but thought better of the idea. He really had no clue what injuries Sam had sustained in his tumble down the stairs, let alone what was done to him at the hands of Gabir. 

Did I do this? Is this my fault? 

He asked for Toby. 

"Josh." 

He started at Toby's voice and turned toward the door. The Communications Director motioned with his hand for him to come to the door. With a final look at Sam, Josh joined Toby at the door. 

"Uh, listen," Toby said, "Dr. Powell said Sam needs to stay here overnight for observation." 

"He's not gonna like that." 

"Tell me about it." Toby sighed, scratching his forehead with a finger. "Look, I think you should go home. You look like you're ready to collapse." 

"But Sam�" 

"I'm staying. He'll be fine." 

"Toby�" 

"Donna's waiting for you. She's going to drive you home." 

Home. Home would be good. 

Toby clapped his arm and stepped around him. "Go home, Josh." 

Josh slipped his hands into his pockets and watched as Toby approached the gurney. 

"Before I go, maybe I should�" 

Toby turned to him. "Josh...just go." 

His breath caught. He'd heard those words before...Oh God. Sam had said that. 

The words stabbed into his gut like a knife. He could still hear the hurt in his friend's voice. He took a few steps backward. 

"Toby?" 

The softly spoken words stopped him in his tracks. Sam was awake? 

"Hey, kiddo," 

Josh turned and walked away. 

 


	23. Shades of Grey 23

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 23  


"Toby?"   
"Hey, kiddo." Toby looked down into dark-ringed blue eyes.

When he had been told that Sam was alive, he'd been afraid to believe it. According to Dr. Powell, the most serious of Sam's injuries were a mild concussion, and a dislocated shoulder with torn ligaments. The latter would subject his deputy to a shoulder immobilizer for a month. Sam was battered and bruised, but he was alive.

He had grieved for this man. He had allowed himself to cry. How Sam had wormed his way through the barriers he had spent most of his life erecting, he had no idea. He just knew that the bond between them was strong. Stronger even than the one he shared with his own brother.

His first impression of Sam had not been a good one. How could a young hotshot possibly fulfill the duties of Deputy Communications Director? Now....How could anyone possibly take his place?

None of that mattered. Sam was here. And he was alive. Toby didn't know whether to laugh or to cry again. The overwhelming grief had come to a crashing halt, but was replaced with so many other feelings�relief, worry, happiness, fear�all vying to be at the forefront. It made it hard to keep his expression schooled into its normal scowl.

Oh, the hell with it. He knew which one needed take dominance now.

He smiled. "You scared the hell out of me, you know that?"

Sam swallowed, and then licked his lips. "Toby...? What...happened?"

Toby paused, his smile fading into pursed lips. Another of those emotions was pushing forward. The doctor said there could be some temporary memory loss due to the concussion. How much should he say? "You don't remember?"

Sam shook his head, fixing his gaze on the ceiling. Toby couldn't help but notice the ugly purple bruise on Sam's right cheekbone. Toby's eyes narrowed.

God, Sam, what did they do to you?

"You took a tumble down some stairs." That was only a small part of it, but at least it was the truth.

"I don't....Toby?" His eyes narrowed in concentration. "Does any of...what happened...have to do with Josh?"

"Yeah, he was there. Do you want to talk to him? He's right outside-" "No!"

Toby was startled by the abrupt answer, but even more surprised by the terrified look on his deputy's face.

Sam recovered quickly, looking abashed. "I mean...I'm just...tired." He looked up again. "Can I go home?"

Toby sighed. Why did he have to be the one to break the news? "Sorry, Sam. You're going to have to stay."

"No," Sam whispered, his head rocking slowly side to side.

"It's okay. It's only for one night. They just want to make sure everything's okay. The doctor said your room will be ready soon."

Sam's eyes slid closed, but his forehead bunched up and his brows drew together.

Toby laid a hand on Sam's good shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, offering as much support as he could. "I'll go see what's taking them so long." He took one step away from the gurney, but stopped when his suit jacket caught on something. He turned back and saw Sam's fingers curled into the material. It had to hurt; the IV was in the back of his hand. "Hey, hey, watch the suit." He smiled again to soften the reprimand, but it faded when he saw how quickly Sam's chest was rising and falling. "Sam?"

"Please...Toby...don't go. I can't...I don't...."

He stepped up beside the gurney again and gently pried Sam's fingers open. He guided the cold hand back to the sheets and covered it with his own, being careful not to disturb the IV line. "I'm not going anywhere, Sam."

As he watched, Sam's breathing slowed, and the worry lines on his face faded into a frown. Toby sighed, his body and mind more weary than he wanted to admit. But it didn't matter. To hell with everything else. He wasn't leaving.

"Get some sleep, Sam. I'll be here when you wake up."

 

 

Toby started, sitting up in the chair with a gasp. He blinked in the dimness, not sure where he was. Something had jarred him from sleep; he was certain. But what?

A soft whimper reached his ears, and suddenly it all came flooding back to him. He pushed himself from the chair and made it to the bedside in one stride.

Sam flinched in his sleep. Sweat matted his hair, plastering it to his forehead even as his head jerked from one side to the other. His eyes moved wildly behind his eyelids, and he whimpered again, louder this time.

"Sam?" he called softly, laying a hand on the younger man's arm.

Sam's lips parted in a silent cry. His eyes flew open and he stared straight ahead, terrified by something only he could see.

"Wake up!" Toby carefully took his deputy's face in his hands and turned it towards him. "Look at me, Sam. You're okay. Come on. Wake up."

Sam's right hand grabbed his wrist and held on tight. Toby held his breath as the younger man squinted in confusion, readjusting his grip on Toby's arm as if making sure it was really there.

"That's it," Toby urged, letting go of Sam's face. "You're all right."

Sam's gaze traveled about the room.

"Do you remember where you are?" When he received only a nod in answer, he asked, "Where are we, Sam?"

"Hospital." It was barely a whisper, but at least it as the right answer.

Toby smoothed the dark hair back, being careful to avoid the bandage taped over the stitches. He laid a hand across Sam's forehead. The younger man was warm, but not terribly so.

"You want to talk about it?"

Sam licked his lips and stared at the white blanket. "I don't...remember...."

Toby could see the frustration as Sam worked it through, and he rubbed the hand that still clutched his wrist.

"Guns," Sam said. "They had guns."

"Yes."

Sam looked at him then, eyes wide and full of fear. Toby could only imagine what his friend was going through. What was worse? Not remembering what happened or the horrible memories that were locked away somewhere in Sam's mind? No, he couldn't even begin to imagine.

"Just relax, Sam. It'll come. Don't force it."

Sam heaved a sigh. "I'm not sure I want to remember."

Toby swallowed, unsure of what to say. There was a tightness in his chest that wouldn't go away. He needed to change the subject. "You really should try to get some sleep."

Sam's expression asked if he was crazy.

Toby couldn't stop the hint of a smile that quirked his lips. "You know the nurse is going to be here in a couple of hours to wake you." He took a step away from the bed, but could make it no farther. "Sam? Can I get my chair?"

"Hmm? Oh. Sorry."

As soon as Sam released him, he retrieved the padded armchair and pulled it up beside the bed. He sat down and reached through the bedrail, taking Sam's hand in his own. "She'll ask you questions again, Sam. Just remember: It's Sunday now. I can't remember what day it is on a daily basis. How do they expect you to know that?"

He kept up a steady dialogue, his voice soft and even. He talked about anything that came to mind until his voice cracked from dryness. He paused to swallow, glancing over at his deputy. Sam's eyes were closed, his breathing steady. Toby waited to see if Sam reacted to the silence.

Nothing.

Toby sat back in his chair with a relieved sigh and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. Sam was asleep, but the grip he maintained on Toby's hand was a strong one.

Toby looked around the private room, his gaze settling on the huge flower arrangement that occupied most of the bedside table. CJ, Cathy, Ginger, and Bonnie had delivered it, all of them anxious to know Sam was okay. Even Leo had stopped by, delivering a handwritten note from the President, who was unable to get away from the White House.

Toby stretched out in the chair, crossing his ankles. His spine crackled and he glanced over at the bed. The noise sounded loud in the quiet of the room, but Sam didn't move. With any luck, he would sleep until the nurse woke him.

And hopefully there would be no more nightmares.

Hopefully.

* * * * *

 

Tap, tap...tap...tap.

Toby stopped at the edge of the darkened Bullpen and listened. He was sure he'd heard...

...tap...tap, tap.

What the hell?

He glanced at his watch. It was nearly seven o'clock in the evening.

Sam had been discharged from the hospital around five. Toby had driven him home, gotten him settled, then headed for the office. There was a hell of a lot to catch up on.

And he'd spent the last hour updating Leo and the President on Sam's condition.

The President was fully prepared to offer both Sam and Josh the entire week off. Not that either of the deputies would take him up on his offer. Toby expected they would take a few days at most.

He hadn't expected this.

Toby stormed down the hall. He could see that faint glow of the desk lamp from Sam's office spilling out into the hallway.

The idiot.

He stopped in the open doorway. "What the hell are you doing?"

Sam looked up from his laptop, his face the picture of innocence. He wasn't even startled. "Writing."

"Did you drive?

"I took a cab."

Toby folded his arms. "Is this what you call inactivity?"

"I'm sitting," Sam argued in his own defense. "I'm only moving one hand. See?"

...tap...tap...tap.

"Sam, typing is an activity. Writing is an activity. Thinking is an activity." His voice became steadily louder with each accusation. He saw Sam wince, so he softened his tone. "The doctor said no activity for a couple of days. You should be home. In bed."

Sam lowered his gaze to the screen. "I think at home too, Toby" he said softly. "I prefer the thinking I do here to the thinking I do there."

Toby let his arms drop to his sides. "Why don't you come in my office and lay on the couch?"

"I have work to do."

Tap, tap, tap.

"Sam�"

"Toby, please."

Damn it. Of all the arguments for Sam to win.

"Okay," he relented.

Sam had the grace to look surprised. "That's it? Just okay?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. I just...I expected more of an argument."

"Sam, what the hell do you want from me?" Toby bellowed, his patience gone.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Okay."

It was a good thing Sam knew when to quit. Toby took a few breaths, and then nodded. "You need anything, you let me know."

"Okay."

"Just call me."

"Okay. Can I use the bell?"

"I got rid of the bell, Sam."

"You did? Wow."

"I'll be right next door."

"I know. Toby?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

 

 

"What are you still doing up?" Donna folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows.

Josh looked rightfully startled. Dressed in old sweatpants and a tee-shirt, he was standing in front of the open refrigerator, a bottle of beer in his hand.

"Donna!" he said. "Wait." His eyes shifted from left to right. "What time is it?"

"Almost midnight."

He closed the refrigerator and attempted to twist off the cap on the bottle. "Why are you here?"

Donna's stomach clenched. "What?" She took a step closer. "I told you I would stay."

"You know, I gotta get up in about five hours for work." He looked down at the bottle in his hands. "This is not a good idea." He stopped trying to twist off the cap and waved a hand through the air in a 'forget it' gesture.

Donna gasped; she could see it shaking. "Josh..."

"I just can't sleep." He began to rummage through a drawer with his free hand. "I keep having nightmares."

Something was wrong. Josh was...was he awake? If he was sleepwalking, she wasn't supposed to wake him, was she? What if he hurt himself? She could hear the rattle of metal, and prayed there were no knives in that drawer.

"Josh?"

"I might as well just stay up now." He paused and looked up at her. "Wasn't I supposed to have a meeting with Senator Collins yesterday?" He shrugged and went back to his search. "I tell you, some of these senators. You give them some power and they act like they own you. Hello? I work at the White House." He slammed the drawer shut. "Where the hell is the bottle opener?!"

Donna could feel tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. "Josh, what day is it?"

He turned to her, his back to the kitchen counter. "What do you mean 'what day is it'? It's Friday."

The tears broke free and slid down her cheeks. She lifted her hand to her mouth, trying to stay in control. Josh needed her. She lowered her hand a bit and made a fist, digging her nails into the palm of her hand. "No, Josh," she said softly. "It's Saturday."

He stared at her a moment, then slowly shook his head. "No," he whispered.

"Oh, Josh," she said, crossing to him. "You're okay, and Sam's okay."

Josh reached his hand back to set the unopened bottle of beer on the counter. He misjudged the edge; the bottle hit the floor and shattered. He didn't seem to notice.

Donna hopped back, beer spraying her legs. "Josh, don't move!" she ordered, dashing to the sink and grabbing the dishtowel. She stooped down to mop up the mess, starting with the area around Josh's bare feet. She gathered it up under the towel and lifted it.

"Ow!" She gasped as a sharp edge poked through the towel and stabbed her middle finger. She dropped the towel where it was and watched a tiny pool of blood swell up, then drip over the side.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Josh was staring at her finger, horrified.

She stood, and went to the sink to rinse off the cut. "Josh, it was an accident. It wasn't your fault."

"It is my fault. It's all my fault."

"What?" Donna wrapped a paper towel around her finger and turned back to him.

Josh's head was bowed, his chin nearly on his chest. "Sam almost died because of me."

Donna opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She closed the distance between them and took his arms gently in her hands. She could feel him trembling.

"I thought I had control," he continued. "I thought I could get us out. I was wrong."

He raised his head to look at her, and her breath caught at the sadness in his eyes.

"Rashid put a gun to his head, Donna. He put a gun to Sam's head and�" His voice hitched. "Honest to God, I thought he was going to kill him."

His eyes glazed with unshed tears, Josh stared through her, trapped in the past. "When I heard that gunshot...I thought he was dead. You know how they say that time slows down? It does. It really does. And in that moment, I saw my life without Sam, and I�"

The first tears fell.

"But he's fine, Josh. We didn't lose him."

"No, Donna. He's alive, but I've lost him. I've lost my best friend."

Donna shook her head. What was that supposed to mean?

Josh lifted a hand to cover his eyes, his chest heaving as he let go the emotions he'd somehow managed to keep at bay. "Oh, God."

Donna felt him move, his body slipping to the floor. She held on to him, moving with him until they were both sitting on the cold tile. She pulled him close, her hand guided his head to her shoulder. Rocking him gently as he sobbed, she thanked God she had decided to stay.


	24. Shades of Grey 24

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 24  


It was nearly midnight. Toby didn't really want to leave Sam, but he wanted to go home.

It wasn't as if he hadn't dropped hints. He'd tried. At first Sam seemed oblivious to them. But when he'd finally caught on, the look of anxiety on his face had sent Toby back to his own office for another hour of worrying and another pot of coffee.

He was running out of ideas.

The younger man was putting up a brave front. Toby knew it was a front. Under the shrouds of 'I'm fine' and 'I'm okay', Sam was hurting.

Once again, Toby wondered what hell his friend had been put through. The thought made him shudder.

A noise caught his attention and he glanced up from staring at his desk. Sam was rummaging through the papers on Cathy's desk. Toby sighed.

"Inactivity, Sam," he called for the umpteenth time.

"I know," came the standard reply, "I was just�"

"Sam!"

"Okay!"

He watched his deputy march back to his office.

Enough.

Toby stood. He needed help on this one.

"Where are you going?" he heard as he passed Sam's door.

"Leo's still here. I need to talk to him. You'll be okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. Fine." Sam nodded a little too quickly.

"I'll be right down the hall."

" 'Kay."

With a nod, Toby headed for Leo's office. He half-expected Sam to come jogging up beside him with some question or idea. It bothered him that it didn't happen, and he resisted the urge to glance back.

Toby gave himself a mental shake. Maybe he was making too much of this. Maybe he should just go home. Maybe�

"Toby."

Pulled from his thoughts, Toby looked up to find Leo walking towards him from the direction of the hallway, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

"Needed to refuel," Leo told him, stepping through the doorway to his office.

"I hear you."

"So what's up?" The Chief of Staff set his mug on the desk blotter and looked at him expectantly. "Why are you still here?" 

"Sam."

"Sam?" Leo's eyebrows rose. "What about him? Is he all right?"

"He won't go home." Toby ran a hand over his beard and sighed.

"He won't�. He's here? What the hell is he doing here?"

Toby could only shrug.

"What's he doing?"

"Working."

Leo groaned, rubbing his forehead. Toby was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea when his boss suddenly looked up. Toby could almost see the light bulb over his head.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Leo said.

"Excuse me?"

"Time to call in the heavy artillery."

Leo picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Hey, it's me," he said when he got an answer. "Sorry to be calling so late, but I need you to do me a favor..."

 

 

He could type with two hands, so why couldn't he type with one? Sam sat back with a frustrated sigh and winced when his shoulder came in contact with the back of the chair.

One day. It had only been one day, and he was already sick of the stupid sling. 'Shoulder Immobilizer', the doctor had called it. 'Pain in the ass' was a more fitting pseudonym.

He couldn't even wear his Princeton sweatshirt. Well, he could if he only put his right arm in the sleeve. It gave a whole new meaning to the term 'pullover'. For the next four weeks he would have to wear button down shirts. He didn't have to raise his arm to put them on.

Stifling a yawn, he leaned forward again and typed a few more words. 'Hunt-and-peck' was getting old really fast. The strap held his arm firmly in place, and he wasn't supposed to move it, but if he could just�

"Ow! Damn it!"

That was intelligent, Seaborn.

He leaned back again, closed his eyes, and waited for the pain to subside. But in the darkness behind his eyes lurked images he didn't want to remember.

Okay. Lesson one: Don't move your arm. Lesson two: Don't close your eyes.

There was a soft rap on the doorframe.

"Mallory." He stood too fast, causing the room to dip sideways. He grabbed the edge of his desk with his right hand.

Maybe she wouldn't notice.

"Hey!" She hurried to his side, and then placed a steadying hand on his back and one on his arm.

She noticed.

"I'm okay," he told her. "Just moved a little too fast." He saw the worry in her eyes. "Mal, what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Dad told me what happened." Mindful of his sling, she slid her arm around his waist. "God, I'm so sorry."

Sam pulled her close with his right arm. She felt good. "I'm fine."

She took a step back and looked up at him. "Okay, I will ask you the same thing: Sam, what are you doing here?"

"What?"

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what?"

"Ask me 'what'. You heard me. You're just stalling until you can think up a good enough answer."

"No, that's not it, I�"

"Dad told you to take a few days off. Why aren't you home resting?"

"I�I�had work to catch up on."

"That's ridiculous." She took his hand and pulled him toward the door. "Come on."

"Wait." Sam tried to resist, but it hurt too much. His arm hurt. His side hurt. His stomach hurt. Why did his stomach hurt?

It was where Gun Guy had punched him.

...Gun Guy...?

"Where are we going?" he asked.

She didn't answer as she led him down the hallway toward the Oval Office. He spotted Toby heading their way, his gaze fixed on an open portfolio in his hands.

"Toby!" he called.

"Hey, Sam." His boss didn't even look up. Toby, who had checked up on him every five minutes since he'd arrived, didn't even look up.

It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't seen Toby in the last forty-five minutes.

Something was up.

"Toby, could you please�"

"Have a good night, Sam."

It was a conspiracy, and he had just passed guilty party number one.

Mallory pulled him right up to the door of her father's office. "Dad?" she called.

"Hey, baby," Leo said. He was sitting behind his desk, his arms folded across his chest.

"Dad, I'm taking Sam home."

"Okay."

Okay? Okay?! Guilty party number two, right there.

"But, Leo�"

"See you Tuesday, Sam."

Guilty party number three turned and pulled him toward the lobby.

 

 

Sam fitted the key into the lock, briefly considering the fact that he was lucky he had use of his right arm.

Briefly.

He had more pressing matters to consider. The prospect of entering his apartment with Mallory was putting him on emotional overload. Not that hadn't envisioned this moment...

Just, not now. Not like this.

He pushed open the door and froze, daunted by the darkness inside. He hadn't been afraid of the dark since he was a boy, yet suddenly those feelings were bubbling to the surface.

He took a step back.

"Sam?"

"Hmm?"

"Going in?"

"Yeah." As soon as I can get my legs to move...

Mallory slipped past him and flipped the light switch inside the door. She turned back to him and smiled, holding out her hand.

His face flushed with embarrassment, he crossed the threshold and moved past her to the couch. He kept his back to her, but could see her reflection in the TV screen as she closed the door.

Stepping farther into the room, she said, "Nice."

"Thanks." Suddenly he felt very awkward.

Okay, so now I've left boyhood and moved into my teenage years. Oh, joy.

Why was it he could remember those days so clearly, but he couldn't remember what had happened yesterday...or was it two days ago now?

"So..."

Sam whirled on her. "You're not leaving�" He caught himself, cleared his throat, then asked calmly, "Are you?"

She didn't try to mask her concern. "I'll stay as long as you need me to."

He breathed a sigh of relief, and then tried to cover it with a nervous laugh. "Although, I can't imagine why you'd want to. I mean, look at me. I'm a wreck. I haven't showered in�God! I'm sorry."

That brought a smile to her lips. "Sam..."

"I haven't showered and I can't wash my hair and there's...there's..." He reached up and scratched through the hair around his right ear. "There's blood in my hair."

Mallory crossed to him. "Look, do you have any soup?"

"I think so."

"All right. I'll make you some soup. Why don't you go take a shower?"

"But�"

She placed two fingers over his lips to shush him.

He shushed.

"Take a shower, but don't get your head wet. Think you can handle that?"

He nodded.

"We'll take care of your hair later. Okay?" 

He nodded again.

Her palm brushed lightly over his cheek. "Go on."

And right into manhood. Please do that again.

Her thumb glided over his jaw as she drew her hand away. "Kitchen?"

"Yes."

Why was she laughing?

Mallory pointed to the right. "That way?"

Oh. Right. "Uh-huh."

She offered him another smile and left the room. The spell broken, Sam headed for the shower.

* * * * *

The water felt good. It felt incredibly good, especially after the pain he had endured taking off the sling and getting undressed. Even lathering up and rinsing off had been a chore.

Four more weeks of this?

Sam leaned back against the cold tile and let the hot water cascade over his aching shoulder. Afraid to close his eyes, he watched the steam rise toward the ceiling.

Smoke.

He remembered smoke. Acrid, grey smoke that burned his eyes, nose and lips.

Damn it. Why couldn't he remember? Maybe he should ask Josh.

Nausea assaulted his stomach at the thought. No. No, he couldn't ask Josh. Josh was...Josh was...Oh God.

'Jesus Christ, Josh, shut up!'

He remembered thinking that. What the hell did it mean?

He turned against the wall so his right shoulder was against the tile. The spray from the showerhead hit the back of his injured shoulder and he moaned softly.

The hot water was running out. He had already turned off all the cold. He should get out of the shower anyway. His soup was probably long done, and Mallory would be worried.

He turned off the water and stepped out of the tub, grabbing his towel from the rack as he passed. Drying off was another chore. Maybe he should just drip dry...

And he couldn't wrap the stupid towel around his waist.

Sam took a deep, calming breath. Getting upset was only making it worse.

Okay. Okay.

He used his hand to swipe at the fogged mirror over the sink, then wished he hadn't. No wonder everyone looked at his cheek before looking him in the eye; the bruise was black and purple...

...His reflection disappeared, replaced by a face he didn't recognize. His cheek throbbed as if he could actually feel the impact of the fist....

Sam blinked and it was gone. He shivered, focusing on the battered image before his eyes.

His hair fell over the bandage on his forehead, so that wasn't as noticeable, thank goodness. He ran a hand over his jaw. He needed a shave.

I can't believe I went to work looking like this....

A knock on the door startled him.

"Sam? You okay?"

He stared at his reflection a moment longer before answering.

Am I okay?

No.

"Yeah," he answered.


	25. Shades of Grey 25

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 25  


Leo sat back in his chair and pulled off his glasses. Why did he think that reading the preliminary report over and over would somehow make it change? He was trying to read between the lines. It wasn't working. The report was clinical, factual, and no help whatsoever.

He wasn't sure what he was looking for. Yes, he was. Something that would tell him Josh and Sam would be fine. Something to assure him both men would be able to perform their jobs to the best of their abilities. Something to tell him his deputy wouldn't need another couple of rounds with Stanley.

There was nothing like that in this report. At the President's request, neither Josh nor Sam had been questioned yet. Not that it mattered in Sam's case; he didn't remember anything anyway.

Leo sighed. What the hell time was it anyway? He checked his watch.

Oh God.

If he left now, he might get four hours sleep.

He put his glasses back on and picked up the report one more time.

 

 

 

His stomach was full, and for the first time in days he was warm.

Mallory had talked him into putting on his Princeton sweatshirt, and he had to admit, he was glad she had. Although it did feel strange having the left sleeve dangle empty, at least he was relatively comfortable.

But as he stood looking dubiously at the setup Mallory had concocted in the bathroom, he wondered at his sanity for agreeing to let her wash his hair.

"You have to sit down, Sam," she said, failing miserably at hiding her grin.

One of the kitchen chairs was set back against the sink, and a rolled up towel perched on the edge of the porcelain.

Sam drew a deep breath, then let it out.

What am I getting myself into...?

With a sidelong glance at his grinning coiffeur, Sam sat down. He winced as he leaned back, resting his neck on the towel. The movement sent a shock of pain shooting from his shoulder to his fingers. But as Mallory began her ministrations, he concentrated on her touch and let everything else fade into the background.

Steam warmed the back of his head and his ears. He sighed and allowed his eyes to close, the tension draining from his shoulders. He felt her lean close, then warm water trickled over his hair. Tiny rivulets made their way behind his left ear and down to the towel.

Her fingers combed through his hair. Her touch was so gentle, so light, it made him shiver with pleasure.

More water cascaded over his head, this time on the right side. Her hand covered his ear as she concentrated on the area where the blood had matted his hair. The warmth felt good. He just wished the stitches didn't itch...

She leaned close to him again, the tiny hairs of her angora sweater tickling the side of his face.

With the pads of her fingers she began to message in the shampoo in gentle circles. She was humming softly - a nameless tune.

A smile tugged at his lips.

"What?" she asked.

He could hear the smile in her voice. She knew why he was smiling. She was being coy.

"Feels nice," he said.

Her soft lips touched his forehead.

That, too.

He reached up, the back of his hand brushing against her sweater. "I could fall asleep."

"Almost done," she said.

Suddenly, he didn't want it to end.

 

 

 

Sunday, 3:10am

 

Mallory smiled down at her charge, absently stroking his damp hair.

His head in her lap, Sam had finally fallen asleep. It had taken awhile for him to find a comfortable position - if you could call the one he was in comfortable. He was lying mostly on his right side, but leaning slightly back so his head could rest at an angle without aggravating the stitches.

She shifted her hips as gently as possible, so as not to disturb him, and leaned against the padded arm of the sofa.

Why did she get so crazy, tingly around him?

Get a grip, Mal. Is it so hard to see?

So why was she so afraid to get too close? What was she so worried about?

Mom and Dad.

She didn't want to end up like her parents. She needed a man who would be there for her.

Sam was a workaholic. He was married to his job. She knew the long hours the Senior Staff put in at the White House. She knew it all too well. Mom had only been able to put up with it for a year.

She tried to tell herself it wouldn't last forever. At worst it would be, what? Six more years? She could wait that long.

Then again, what did they say? 'You can take the man out of the White House, but you can't take the White House out of the man'. Okay, that really referred to former presidents, but still... Who was to say Sam would leave politics?

Did she really want him to?

Mallory smiled. She loved when he got all puffed up on an issue. He stood up straighter, jutted out his chin, and his eyes...

Those eyes.

She sighed.

Sam shifted a little in his sleep, and small twitch tugging at the corner of his right eye. She caressed his face, smiling as he snuggled closer to her hand. Her smile faded when she saw the dark spot beneath his chin. She hadn't noticed it before. Tilting her head to get a better look, Mallory traced a finger over small circle. It was a bruise. Not as bad as the one on his cheek, but a bruise all the same. What had caused�?

"No...please..."

The softly spoken words held a pleading note that wrenched her heart. She pulled her hand away. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"...please...don't...No!" He jerked away from her touch, lifting his hand to fend off her hand.

Mallory gasped, holding him tighter, realizing he was dreaming. "Shhhh," she soothed, stroking his head.

Sam whimpered softly, then settled into silence.

With a feather-light touch, Mallory caressed his face until the worry lines disappeared. "That's it. Just relax. I'm here."

And I love you, Sam Seaborn.


	26. Shades of Grey 26

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 26  


Monday, January 15, 2001, 1:00pm   
Josh hated Mondays.

This one was no exception. He felt like he hadn't slept at all.

Oh, wait, that's right. He hadn't.

Leo had told him not to come in until Tuesday, but he had work to do. The Secret Service wanted to talk to him. And the FBI. And the police. There was no sense in taking the whole day off. Time off meant time to think. He didn't want to think about anything that wasn't work.

"Afternoon, Josh!"

"Hey, Josh!"

"Glad you're okay, man."

He waved and gave the best smile he could manage as he passed through security and headed for his office.

A round of applause greeted him as he passed his Bullpen.

If they only knew...

He repeated his smile and wave and turned into his office.

There was a plant on his desk. A big, tropical one. The words 'Feed me' suddenly came to mind.

"Josh, as much as I disagree with your being here, I knew you would be, so I got together some information I thought you might need�"

"Good morning, Donna," he mumbled, setting his briefcase on his desk. She didn't even pause for a breath.

"�for your meeting on the Hill. I organized your phone messages, but those are only the ones you need to handle. I took care of the rest and�"

"Who's the plant from?" he asked.

"Oh, it's from all of us," Donna said, gesturing back at the Bullpen.

Josh nodded. "You picked it out?"

"How'd you know?"

"Donna, if it starts asking for blood, you can oblige."

"I see your sense of humor is back." There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"What sense of humor? That was a statement of fact."

"You don't like it."

He was about to make another comment, but he looked up and saw she was making the boo-boo face.

No, not the boo-boo face....He had no defense against the boo-boo face.

"It's great, Donna. Thanks."

She smiled. "I just thought you could use some cheering up."

"Did Sam come in?" he asked, attempting to peruse his phone messages.

"I haven't seen him. Oh, and Leo wants to see you as soon as you get settled."

Josh looked up from the papers. "Why didn't you tell me?" He rounded the desk and headed for the door.

"I just did," he heard as he walked out the door.

 

 

 

"Dad, I really think you should let him stay."

Leo sighed. He could tell by the tone of his daughter's voice that there was no arguing with her. He was going to anyway. "Mallory, the doctor said he needed rest."

"He's not going to get it at home by himself." Mallory stepped closer to his desk. "You didn't see him last night, Dad. He was terrified of being left alone. When I was getting ready to leave this morning�"

"You spent the night?!"

"Dad..."

"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I called you."

Mallory planted her fists on his hips and tilted her head to one side. "I'm not sixteen anymore, Dad. Try to remember that, okay?"

Leo waved in surrender. "Just fulfilling my fatherly duties."

Mallory relaxed. "I know. Thanks for calling me." She walked around to his side of the desk, leaned over and kissed his head. "I have to get back to work. Let him stay. He needs to be here. He needs to be with his friends."

"I'll think about it."

"Thank you."

"That didn't mean yes." Of course it did.

"I know." And she did.

"Hey, Mal." Josh strode into the office. "I'm sorry." He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "I can come back."

Leo stood and walked to him. "No, Josh, come in."

"I was just leaving." Mallory gave Josh a quick peck on the cheek. "Glad you're okay."

"Thanks," he said as she waved and left the room.

"Welcome back," Leo said, extending a hand.

Leo clapped his deputy on the arm as they shook hands. "Talked to the Secret Service yet?" he asked.

"No, I just got in. What's up?"

"I figured you wouldn't take the day off. You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Don't bullshit me, Josh, or I'll kick your ass all the way back to Connecticut."

"Leo, I'm fine."

Leo studied him a moment, then nodded, satisfied. "All right." He held out an arm toward the couch. "Have a seat. I'll fill you in on what you've missed..."

 

 

 

Monday, 11:35pm

 

This time Toby knew exactly what it was that had yanked him from sleep: the anguished scream that had been torn from Sam's throat by whatever visions were assaulting his dreams.

He darted into the living room but stopped short at the sight that greeted him.

Sam was huddled in the corner of the sofa, his knees drawn up, his right arm wrapped around his legs. His feet were moving, pushing, as if he was trying to get away from something.

Toby approached him carefully. "Sam?" He sat on the other end of the couch, wincing when Sam tried to push himself farther into the corner.

The younger man's eyes were fixed on a spot in the middle of the floor. So intense was the gaze that Toby had to look for himself to make sure there really wasn't something there.

"Sam?" he said again, louder this time.

"Blood."

"There's no blood, Sam."

"So much blood."

"Sam, listen to me." Toby moved closer, trying to block the view of the floor. Tear-filled eyes finally met his. "There's no blood. You're staying at my place, remember? We watched the game?"

Sam's shoulders hitched with a breath and he grimaced. Finally, he nodded.

Toby gave Sam's knee a reassuring pat. "I'll get you some water." He stood, but didn't make it two steps before Sam's voice stopped him. He turned back.

"When I was a kid, I used to go with my dad to the butcher shop every Sunday for steaks. I still remember the smell in that place. I never knew what it was...until now." Tears spilled over his cheeks. "It was blood."

"Sam..."

"I watched him die."

Toby took a step towards him. "Who?"

"Rashid."

Toby sat down again.

"I watched him die, and I�" Sam swallowed. "I didn't feel anything. My God, Toby, I saw a man die and I didn't feel anything."

"Sam, you were in shock."

"What's wrong with me?" Sam lifted his good hand to cover his eyes. "I don't understand."

Toby moved closer, resting his hand on Sam's knee again. "You have to give yourself time. Don't try so hard to remember. It'll come." He could feel the younger man trembling.

"Oh, God," Sam said on a breath.

There was no way to rid Sam of the visions he was seeing in his mind's eye. There was no way to take away the pain. All Toby could offer was his friendship, and a shoulder to lean on.

He hoped it was enough.

 

 

 

Thursday, January 18, 2001, 9:00am

 

"Good morning, everyone," Bartlet greeted as he entered the Oval Office. He took the portfolio Leo was holding out to him and flipped it open. "What do have for today?"

"Toby?" Leo nodded for his Communications Director to start.

"Our main focus is still the State of the Union, but we're also working on your speech for the dedication in New Jersey."

"Dedication?" Bartlet asked.

"The statue of Washington in Ryker State Park, Mr. President," Leo reminded.

"Oh, right."

"CJ?" Toby passed the floor to her.

"Yes. Mr. President, I will need your comments on a few things for the briefing this afternoon. It seems there are some delays with the extradition of Mohammed Riaz. Due to the...recent events, I'm sure the Press will ask for your comments. There's also the increase in bomb threats in public schools, and Alaska is about to lift the ban on the killing of baby seals."

"Okay," Bartlet said. "CJ, let's do that right after the meeting. What's next?"

"Josh?" Leo asked.

"Yeah, ah..." Josh pulled his hands from his pockets. "Upstate New York got about sixteen feet of snow dumped on them, and it's not stopping. The governor has declared at state of emergency and they're looking for federal aide. Peterson's out there now. I should have a report by this afternoon."

Leo nodded. "Sam?"

"What?"

"Anything to add?" Leo's eyes narrowed.

Sam looked startled, lost.

"Are you all right, Sam?" Bartlet asked.

"I'm fine, sir, thank you." He opened his portfolio and rifled through his papers. "Just...give me a sec..."

Toby glanced back and mumbled something to his deputy.

"Yes," Sam said, "Of course the...State of the Union is our focus right now, but I'm also working on responses to the...questions that are...bound to be asked following the address."

"Make sure one of them is for the NEC," Leo said. "They'll have plenty of questions."

"The NEC," Sam repeated, patting his pockets with his right hand and glancing around. Josh took a step toward him and held out his pen, but Sam countered forward and plucked the pen from Toby's grasp.

Leo watched the awkward dance in utter amazement. Josh looked hurt, Sam looked panicked, and CJ and Toby looked lost. He exchanged a glance with the baffled President, and then cleared his throat. "All right, people. Anything else?" he asked.

Four heads shook.

"Then let's get to work," said Bartlet.

"Thank you, Mr. President." Sam snapped closed his portfolio and left the room.

Josh echoed the thanks with a nod and left a moment later.

"Toby?" Leo called before the Communications Director took his leave.

Bartlet folded his arms and leaned back against his desk. "Anyone want to tell me what that was all about?"

Toby joined Leo and CJ before the President. "I apologize, sir. I had no idea Sam wasn't prepared. I thought�"

Bartlet waved him to silence. "Toby, you don't need to apologize for Sam. We all know he's been through a lot. I'm not concerned that he seemed unprepared. I'm concerned about the little number he pulled with Josh."

"I noticed. What was that?" CJ shook her head, bewildered.

"Josh said everything was fine." Leo shrugged. "Toby, has Sam said anything to you?"

Toby blew out a breath. "I know he's been having nightmares. He's been staying at my place this week. He's not handling being alone very well. But he doesn't really talk about it. I get pieces here and there."

Bartlet nodded. "Ron said according to Josh, Sam was kept in a room by himself. Sam may not remember that, but it's there."

"You know, now that you mention it..." CJ waggled her pen as she spoke. "Sam's been really jumpy since he came back, but I just assumed it was because...you know."

"Toby..." Bartlet pushed upright and rounding his desk. "...would you get the door, please?"

Once Toby had rejoined them, Bartlet pulled a file folder from his desk. "Leo, I apologize. I haven't had a chance to review this with you. Ron dropped it off this morning. It's the final report on the kidnapping. I think our answer may be in here." He held up the folder. "I don't think I need to remind you that what we are about to discuss does not leave this room."

"Yes, Mr. President," Toby agreed.

"Of course, sir," CJ said.

Leo nodded.

"Josh seems to think he's responsible for nearly getting Sam killed."

"What?" Leo couldn't believe what he was hearing. Josh had given him no indication whatsoever. "That's ridiculous."

"Why would he think that?" Toby asked, his tone hushed.

"According to the report, Josh tried to talk Rashid out of the whole thing. The gunshot we heard was the result of his efforts."

"You think Sam blames Josh?" CJ asked.

"How could he?" Leo needed to move. He took a few steps away from the President's desk, and then paced back. "He says he doesn't remember."

"What if he does?" Toby asked. "What if he does remember, but doesn't want to say anything?" He looked at CJ. "And why shouldn't he blame Josh? Josh had no right to take matters into his own hands."

"Toby." Bartlet glared at his Communications Director. "I didn't tell you this so you could pass judgment. And can you stand there and honestly tell me that if it had been you instead of Josh, and Ahmad was an old friend of yours, that you wouldn't have done exactly the same thing?"

Toby's Adam's apple bobbed at he swallowed. "No, sir."

Leo wasn't sure he meant it, but at least it was the right answer. He'd have to talk to Toby later. Right now, he had bigger concerns. "I'll have to think this over." He looked at CJ and Toby. "Keep an eye on them, okay? If things get out of hand, we'll have to take the next step."

"Counseling?" Bartlet asked.

Leo nodded. "Let's see how the rest of the day goes first..."

 

 

 

"Can I have my pen back?"

Sam turned from the file cabinet to face Toby. "Oh, sure." He stepped over to his desk and picked up the pen from his blotter. "Here."

Toby claimed his property and tapped it against his palm. "Sam..." "Yeah?"

"If you need to talk, you know where I am."

Sam nodded. "Sure."

Toby stood there a moment longer, then tucked the pen in the inside pocket of his jacket and headed back to his office.


	27. Shades of Grey 27

 

Thursday, 2:43pm   
Leo hung his coat in the closet and sighed. There were days when he really hated going to the Hill. He probably should have sent Josh. Hindsight was a wonderful thing...

On the other hand, while he'd been kept waiting, he had had time to consider the worrisome problem of Josh and Sam. How to deal with something like that? He wasn't a therapist. Not that the two young men needed therapy; given some time, they would both be fine. Wouldn't they?

He had an idea. He wasn't sure it would work, but what the hell.

"Margaret?" he yelled.

His assistant appeared in the doorway. Was that a new hairdo...?

"Yes, Leo?"

He consulted his watch. "CJ's in her briefing. Call Josh, Sam and Toby. Tell them I want to see them now. As in now."

"Okay." She was gone.

He hoped to God he wasn't about to make things worse...

 

 

 

Thursday, 3:05pm

 

"As you know, the Gramm-Leach-Bliley Act of 1999 goes into effect on July first. There are a number of senators who feel the law is too vague and doesn't provide enough privacy to the consumer. We need to be ready for their argument. Josh, Sam. I want you two to take opposing sides on this and come up with as many possible rebuttals as you can." Leo glanced up over the rims of his glasses at the two deputies. Josh nodded at him. Sam looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Um, Leo?" Toby said, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I don't think Sam should-"

"Toby," he admonished, "Sam is a big boy. If he has a problem, he can tell me himself. Sam, do you have a problem with this?"

Sam shook his head, but it looked like a quick shudder. "Uh, no. No problem. Fine."

"Good." Leo closed his portfolio. "We're done. Now get the hell out of my office."

He watched them file out into the hall, Toby offering him a look that said, 'I hope you know what you're doing.'

So do I, Toby. So do I.

 

 

 

"Pros or cons?" Josh asked, managing to catch up with Sam.

"What?" Sam looked like he was in a daze.

"Do you want to take pros or cons?"

"Uh...pros." The way he spoke, it was obvious his mind was elsewhere.

Josh pretended he didn't notice. "Okay. Let's see what we can come up with in two hours. Meet you in the Roosevelt Room then?"

Sam nodded.

Josh lifted a hand to clap his friend on the arm, but Sam suddenly came to life and moved out of reach.

"I gotta go," Sam said. "See you later."

"Yeah," Josh said as he watched his friend leave. "Later."

 

 

 

Thursday, 5:30pm

 

"...the problem is that we're so busy looking at ways to protect people's privacy that we're making it almost impossible for them to acquire the information they need in a timely manner. There has to be a simple way for the consumer to access their information or it's not going to work..."

The roar in his ears drowned out Josh's voice. He couldn't hear the words anymore. Not those words. Other words...

'...This isn't going to work! The President isn't going to negotiate...'

'...Oh, that's just great. Just great, Raj! Well, when the time comes,

you should pull the trigger...'

The memories had no meaning.

'...You're a coward. I never would have believed you could do this...' Stop it. Stop!

"Jesus Christ, Josh, shut up!"

Josh stopped talking.

Oh God.

Sam stood so fast his chair teetered precariously before settling back onto all its legs. His chest heaving, he searched for the closest escape route. Where the hell was he?

Roosevelt Room.

He bolted for the door.

"Sam!"

He heard Josh, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't. He didn't want to remember. He just wanted to get away. As far away as possible. He burst through the door and out into the hallway.

Which way?

His vision darkened around the edges. He wasn't quite sure where he was or where he should go. He couldn't go to his office. They would find him there. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to remember.

He knocked into someone, but he didn't care. He had to keep going. He was vaguely aware of someone calling his name.

No! Leave me alone!

There was a door on his right. The men's room.

He slammed into the door, his weight knocking it open. Stifling a cry of pain at the jolt the action sent through his shoulder, Sam entered the room, praying there was no one there. He just wanted to be alone.

 

 

 

Josh couldn't believe how fast Sam was moving.

What the hell had happened back there? What had he said?

"Sam!" he called again. "Sam, wait!"

There was no response, no sign that Sam had even heard him. He saw the younger man duck into the rest room.

Okay. He had Sam cornered. Now what?

Josh slowed as he reached the door. Part of him wanted to barge in and demand to know what was going on. But the more sensible part told him he should stay away. He shouldn't upset Sam further.

It was just too much. He couldn't handle it anymore. He had to do something...but what?

Josh gazed around the hallway, hoping by some miracle the answer would come to him.

His miracle came out of the women's room.

"CJ!" he cried, grabbing her by the arms.

"Jesus, Josh!" the startled Press Secretary yelped. "What the hell's the matter with you! You're lucky I don't know Kung Fu."

"CJ�"

She tried to pull away. "Josh, look�"

"CJ, will you please listen to me?!"

He regretted using that tone with her, but it worked. CJ stopped and really looked at him. Her brow furrowed in concern.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You look pale."

"Sam and I were working on a debate for Leo and he just freaked out."

"Sam?"

"Yes!"

"Well, where is he?"

"In the men's room."

"So why don't you go in there and get him?"

"Because I don't want him to lose it again! CJ, please!"

She stared at him a long moment as she comprehended what he was asking. "I don't believe this," she muttered.

Josh wasn't sure if her comment was directed at him for his unspoken suggestion, or at herself for actually considering his request.

He got his answer when she shrugged from his grasp, glared at him with a raised eyebrow, then turned and slammed open the door to the men's room.

 

 

 

"All right, Spanky�" CJ cut herself off as soon as she got a look at Sam. As the door closed behind her, she took another step forward. "Sam?"

He was leaning over one of the sinks, gasping breaths making his back rise and fall in rapid succession. His right hand grasped the edge of the sink, supporting most of his weight.

His head moved enough for him to take a sidelong glance at her. "CJ?"

"Are you okay?"

Sam's eyes went a little wider as he glanced around the room. "I don't think you're supposed to be in here." His voice was hoarse.

The young man was pale, his eyes red and rimmed with tears. She felt a pang of guilt for the way she'd barreled in. "God, Sam," was all she could force out at the moment.

Suddenly self-conscious, Sam turned back to the sink. "Please, CJ...I just want to be alone."

"Really? Is that why you've been staying at Toby's?" She kept her voice low, yet firm.

He took another gasping breath and ran a shaking hand through his hair.

"What's going on, Sam?"

"I don't know."

"Sam�"

"I don't know!" There was more desperation in his voice than anger.

CJ was stunned into silence.

Finally, Sam lifted his head and turned to her. His gaze wandered the room in search of...something. "CJ..." he began, then paused.

She wanted to urge him to go on, but she remained quiet, giving him time.

"I have all these...images...in my head. I see things and hear things that I think are supposed to mean something, but I don't know what. Are they memories? Or are they just part of the nightmares...I...I don't..." He swallowed, his eyes moving, searching as if the words he needed were tangible things. "Every time I see Josh...I feel...I get this horrible feeling in my gut...and I don't know why! Jesus, CJ, he's my best friend and I can't even look at him without feeling like I'm going to throw up. I want to know why. I...need to know why."

CJ bit her tongue, wondering if the information she now knew was what he was searching for. It wasn't her place to say. There was really only one solution. "You have to talk to Josh."

He took a step back, shaking his head. "No. I can't. Not yet."

"Sam, he knows. He's the only one who does. If you want answers, he's the one to talk to."

Sam was still shaking his head. She wondered if he'd even heard all of what she had said.

"He's waiting outside," she told him. "Would you like me to go with you?"

Backing into the corner, Sam pleaded, "CJ, I can't. Please. I just can't."

"All right, Sam. All right. Just calm down, okay?" She walked towards him slowly.

He was staring past her as if expecting the door to open any second. Maybe she shouldn't have told him about Josh being out there...

She was close enough to touch him. She reached out with her left hand until it brushed his right arm. He didn't flinch from her touch. With a quiet sigh of relief, she said, "Hey, you're going to be okay."

He looked at her then, uncertain.

"Come here," she whispered, offering him a hug.

After the slightest pause, Sam stepped into the embrace, and CJ realized she needed it as much as Sam did. Mindful of his shoulder, she wrapped her arms around him. She hadn't really had the opportunity to welcome him back, to tell him how happy she was that he was all right. She felt tears spring to her eyes, but she held them back. The sniffle got past her, though.

When they parted she said, "I'm going to tell Josh you're not ready to talk yet, but when you're ready, you'll go to him. All right?" 

Sam gave an erratic nod.

"I'll be right back. Then I'm going to have Toby take you back to his place."

Another nod.

"Okay." CJ took a deep breath. What she had just done was hard enough. What she was about to do could prove even harder...

 

 

 

"What do you mean, he's not coming out?!" Josh was red in the face, his pent up frustration coming out as anger.

CJ knew he needed to vent, but right here and right now was not a good idea.

"That's it," Josh said. "I'm going in there. He'll have to talk to me�" She grabbed hold of him, staggering at the strength behind his stride. "Josh, no! Will you listen to me? You wouldn't be doing either one of you any good going in there like this!"

Josh shrugged violently from her grasp, but didn't head for the men's room door. He turned his back on her and raked both hands through his hair. He stalked a few paces down the hall, and then came back, working through his raging emotions. "I don't believe this," he muttered. "I don't fucking believe this." He whirled on CJ and pointed a finger at the door. "What the hell does he want from me? Can you at least tell me that? How many times do I have to apologize? Does he want blood? Maybe I should slit my wrists."

CJ realized she was seeing for the first time just how traumatized Josh was. She could see it in Sam. She hadn't in Josh. She should have remembered that-from before. "Josh, please don't say that."

"You know what?" he said, his glare going right through her. "You can both go to hell."

He stormed by her, oblivious to the prying eyes of others staffers who had overheard.

CJ closed her eyes. Could that have possibly gone any worse?

 

 

 

Josh's hands were shaking. Part of him regretted what he had said to CJ, but the other part, the more dominant part, told him he meant what he'd said.

She was supposed to have helped him. Fat lot of help she was!

And Sam...

His chest tightened painfully, but he routed the feeling to fuel his anger. He quickened his pace. He needed to get out of there. He needed to go home. Just a few things to do in his office, then he could go.

He needed a beer.

Or two.

Maybe a six-pack.

Oblivion sounded like a wonderful place where he wouldn't have to deal with anything for a while.

Yes, that was a plan.

Josh blew past his startled assistant and into his office. Before she could say a word, he slammed the door.


	28. Shades of Grey 28

 

Shades of Grey

Part 28

Thursday, 7:00pm

The traffic light offered Toby the opportunity to look across at his silent passenger. Sam was slumped in the front seat, his head down.

"You okay?"

No response.

The light turned green. Toby returned his attention to the road and stepped on the gas.

The remainder of the ride was just as quiet. It was driving Toby nuts. His conversations with Sam over the last four days hadn't been sparkling, but at least they'd talked. And to think, he'd found Sam's rambling annoying. He'd give anything at the moment to hear his deputy go off on a tangent.

CJ had given him a heads up that there was a problem, but he was beginning to think she had left out some of the finer details.

Toby pulled his Dart into a space only a block from his apartment and turned off the car. Sam didn't move.

"Coming?" Toby asked.

Sam raised his head and looked around as if suddenly realizing they had stopped. Without a word, he opened the passenger door and stepped out onto the curb.

What the hell had happened? As he entered his apartment building, Toby made a mental note to talk to Josh in the morning. Something had to be done. It probably wasn't his place to interfere, but he didn't care.

He paused before his door, separating the proper key on his key ring as he waited for Sam to catch up. His deputy was literally trudging down the hall. Toby shook his head. This was going to be a fun night.

He opened the door, touching the mezuzah on the doorframe as he stepped over the threshold. He was surprised when Sam entered behind him and headed for the couch before Toby managed to turn on the lights.

Something was definitely wrong.

He flipped the light switch beside the door and tossed his keys on the table below it. "Sam?"

"Toby, I just want to lay down for a little while."

He hung his coat in the closet. "Okay. I was going to watch the hockey game. Want the bed?"

"No, the couch is fine. The game won't bother me."

Sam's voice was a quiet monotone. The last time Toby had heard that tone was in the bar after the drop-in fiasco.

Oh yes. It was going to be a fun night.

Friday, January 19, 2001, 1:59am

Toby rolled over and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Oh God.

He'd been tossing and turning for the last three hours, but his over-active mind refused to let him sleep. He felt as though he had had at least six cups of coffee.

Sam had been quiet all night. Toby knew he should be thankful for small miracles, but the fact that the younger man had not even had a nightmare was somehow worrisome. They had become a regular occurrence. He had expected that they would at least become less intense before subsiding all together.

With a sigh of exasperation, Toby threw back the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Maybe a nightcap would help. He pulled on his sweatpants and sweatshirt and padded into the kitchen.

He emerged a few moments later with a bottle of beer, but stopped on his way back to the bedroom. Squinting into the darkness, Toby took a few steps into the living room. "Sam?"

The younger man was sitting up on the couch, the blanket wrapped around him. As Toby drew closer and his eyes adjusted, he could see that Sam was staring straight ahead, his face expressionless.

"Sam?" Toby repeated.

"I remember, Toby."

Toby set his beer down on the end table and sat on the couch. "Are you sure?"

Sam nodded. "I remember everything."

Toby pursed his lips. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Want to talk about it?" he asked quietly.

Sam was silent for a long time. So long, in fact, that Toby was getting a kink in his back from leaning as he was. He wondered if Sam had fallen asleep again. Toby glanced to his left. Sam hadn't moved.

"I thought they were going to kill me," he said finally, his voice catching on the word 'kill'.

Toby closed his eyes, recalling the gunshot and how he'd felt. "It's okay, Sam, you don't have to-"

"Rashid held a gun to my head. I could feel it, Toby, right in the back of my head. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. I couldn't do anything."

"Why did he do that, Sam?" Toby was treading on thin ice, but he had to know.

"Josh..."

Here it comes.

"Josh thought he could talk Rashid out of the whole thing...He was so sure..."

"What happened?"

"I heard them yelling. Josh and Rashid. And then....They tied my hands, Toby. I-I tried...I couldn't fight all of them...I..." Sam choked on a sob. "They dragged me downstairs and put a gun to my head and Josh..."

Toby sat up and shifted to face him. "You blame Josh for what happened?"

Sam looked at him then, his eyes wide. "No!" His gaze diverted. "I mean...I did...at first. But...I was so...terrified. I don't know. I said things...things I....

"I did blame him, Toby. When that gun went off...and I realized...All I could think was, 'Damn you, Josh, I can't believe you did this to me.' But then...the raid started. And I heard all that gunfire and Josh had just left the room. He was out there...I was going to lose my best friend and the last thing I said to him was 'go away'."

"Sam, why didn't you talk to him?"

"I don't know. I was scared. I had this...jumble of thoughts and feelings, but no memories to go with them. I just knew something terrible had happened..."

Sam looked at him again, and the dim glow of the kitchen night-light glistened in a tear track on his cheek. "Does he know about Rashid?"

Toby nodded. "Ron told him."

"I saw the whole thing."

"I know, Sam." Toby didn't want him to remember that particular nightmare.

"The guy with the semi-automatic. He killed Rashid."

Toby's eyebrows drew together. "What?"

Sam sat very still, his eyes focused on the hand clutching the edges of the blanket together. "When Rashid came into the room, I was sure he was going to kill me. So sure. He said, 'It's over'. I thought I was going to die." Sam's head lifted. "Oh, God."

"What is it?"

Sam shook his head. "My God, Toby, his gun wasn't even pointed at me. And then-" His voice caught in his throat as he remembered the events that followed. He looked up at Toby, his eyes wide. "Josh was right. He was right and I-I gotta go talk to him." He stood up, letting the blanket drop to the couch. He was still fully clothed.

"Sam, it's after two in the morning!"

"Toby, I need to borrow your car."

"Did you hear what I just said? And you can't drive!"

"I'm fine to drive. I just have to use one hand."

"Sam, sit down."

"Toby-"

"Sit down!"

Sam returned to his place on the couch and covered his face with his good hand.

Toby laid a hand on his back. "Look, you can talk to him in the morning. At the office. Okay?" He waited for a response but there was none. "I'll get you something to drink." He waited another moment, then stood and padded into the kitchen. Sam seemed to be on a collision course with an emotional freight train. He'd have to keep a close eye-

Was that the front door...?

"Sam?" Toby turned and bolted back into the living room. "Sam?!"

His deputy was not in the room. On a hunch, Toby hurried toward the door. The bolt was unlocked. And his keys were gone. Damn.

You ruin my car, Sam, and I'm garnishing your wages.

Toby bolted the door, and headed back to his bedroom. Sam wouldn't be back tonight.

But if he forgets to pick me up in the morning...


	29. Shades of Grey 29

 

Shades of Grey  
Part 29  


He shouldn't be driving. He really shouldn't be driving.  
The more he thought about the way he'd been acting over the last week, the more anxious and nauseous he became. How could he have been so callous?

Josh was right.

Oh, God. I'm sorry.

It occurred to him that if circumstances had been different, if Josh hadn't known Rashid, they would probably both be dead right now.

Josh was stubborn. He never gave up. Never. Once he set his mind to something, he fought until it was done. That was how Josiah Bartlet got into the White House. It was how Sam got into the White House.

Josh Lyman, champion of...whatever cause needed a champion. He never seemed to be prejudiced against anyone, or anything. He was very much the 'I'm okay, you're okay' kind of guy.

He was a damn good friend. There was no way in hell Josh would do anything purposely to endanger Sam. He just lacked serious control when it came to speaking his mind.

Seaborn, you're an ass.

He swallowed convulsively, trying desperately not to be sick. He had to get control.

What did I do? Josh, I didn't mean�

I have to make this right.

I have to.

 

Josh shuffled toward the door, his head in a fog. What the hell time was it anyway? The hardwood floor was cold under his bare feet. As he unlocked the deadbolt, it occurred to him that he probably should know who was at the door first. Especially at...what time was it again?

He opened the door.

A blur blew past him into the apartment. A talking blur. He was sure he recognized the blur; it was just taking his brain a few extra moments to catch up with his senses. It was pretty weird actually. Kinda gave that deja vu feeling...

"Josh!"

That's me.

He closed the door, then shuffled back into the living room in search of the couch.

It's here somewhere...ow. There it is.

There was a click behind him and an instant later light stabbed through his eyes and banged around inside his head. With a sound that was somewhere between a growl and moan, he fell back onto the couch and covered his eyes.

"Josh."

I know that voice. Wait a minute...wait...

He lowered his hands and opened his eyes. The blur was kneeling in front of him. "Sam." He blinked. "Sam?"

"Yeah."

"You're blurry."

"You're drunk."

"No, actually, I'm way past the drunk stage. But I haven't gotten to the hangover stage yet. I'm kinda just floating in-between."

"That...still constitutes as drunk, Josh."

"Really?...Okay. Yeah, I'm drunk."

"Maybe I should make you some coffee," Sam offered.

"No...'cause I think I would like to get back to sleep at some point tonight."

"We need to talk."

"I've been trying to talk to you all week."

Sam averted his gaze, then stood and began to pace in front of the couch. "I know. Josh�"

"Where's your coat?"

Sam paused. "I left it over Toby's. Josh�"

"It's like...two degrees out, Sam."

"I know�"

"You're gonna get sick."

"Josh, will you shut up and let me talk?"

Josh licked his lips and held up his index finger. "I think...that's the second time today you've told me to shut up."

"I'm sorry," Sam said quickly. "I didn't...I mean....I'm sorry." He hung his head. "You were right, Josh."

"What?"

Sam looked at him again. "You were right...about Rashid." He sank down to the cushions.

I was...right? "I...I don't..."

"I think he was going to let me go."

Josh stood and headed for the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

Josh turned back, pointing over his shoulder at the kitchen doorway. "I'm gonna need some coffee for the rest of this conversation."

*******

The fog was lifting more and more as time passed. Josh glanced at the kitchen clock. Three-fifteen. Sam had been talking for an hour and a half. He really didn't understand everything that was being said, but he understood enough, enough to throw his emotions into turmoil.

There was an overwhelming sense of relief that Sam had come to him, but an underlying feeling of dread gripped his stomach as he listened to Sam's words and discovered what had happened.

So he'd been right about Rashid. It didn't make him feel any better to know that. There was an empty place somewhere deep inside at the loss of his old friend. The way Sam described what he had witnessed�the pauses, how he searched for the words�told Josh more than the words themselves ever could.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Sam." His voice sounded strange, distant.

He downed the last of his third cup of coffee and realized Sam was no longer talking. The younger man was sitting across the kitchen table from him, turning his nearly untouched cup of coffee by the handle, his eyes fixed on the liquid inside.

Josh put his mug down and looked at the small bandage under the hair that fell across Sam's forehead, the yellow remnants of the bruise on his cheek, the red marks on the wrist he could see, and the sling immobilizing Sam's left arm. Sam could have died�

No.

In one of his sessions, Stanley had told him not to dwell on what might have been. Why worry about what didn't happen? Be thankful for what did.

Sam was alive. He was here. That was good. It was so much more than good...

A deep sigh caught his attention and he blinked back into focus.

"I'm so sorry, Josh."

"Sam�"

"I said some pretty horrible things to you."

Yeah, you did. "Don't worry about it�"

"I'm sorry I didn't�"

"Sam!" He hadn't meant it to be so loud, but it worked; Sam finally looked up at him. "It's okay. You don't have to apologize."

"But�"

Josh held up a hand to silence him. "It's six o'clock�"

Sam turned and glanced at the clock. "It's three-thirty," he corrected.

"It's six o'clock," Josh continued, "and we've been apologizing to each other for the last three and a half hours." He smiled at the lost look on Sam's face. "And we have finally come to the conclusion that neither one of us is at fault. So you know what? Let's just sweep it all under to rug." He had the feeling his smile had turned into an idiotic grin, but he didn't care. He hadn't felt this good in more than a week.

Sam still looked lost as his eyes searched Josh's face for some clue as to what was going on. Then finally his lips quirked, and a hint of a smile touched his face.

Come on. You can do it...

Sam sat there for a long time, still toying with his mug. But the semi-smile remained in place.

Josh wondered what he was thinking.

"Thanks, Josh."

"Hey, I should be thanking you. You came here. So we're even, okay?"

Sam smiled.

There it is. Knew you could do it.

"Okay." Sam stood up, stretched, then grabbed the two mugs and put them in the sink. "You should get to bed."

"Why? It's six o'clock, remember? I gotta get up for work."

"That means we have Staff in three hours," Sam said with a grin.

Josh moaned and let his head fall forward onto the table.

"I should be going."

Was he crazy? Josh lifted his head. "Sam, don't be such an idiot. I have a guest room. Crash."

Sam nodded. "Thanks."

Josh stifled a yawn as he leaned both hands on the kitchen table to push himself upright. He watched Sam unplug the coffee pot. It was no wonder they never got an apartment together. It would be like Felix and Oscar. "Don't worry about it, Sam. Go get some sleep."

He turned and headed for the hall, suddenly realized how exhausted he was. But it was a good exhausted. Maybe he would be able to sleep. As he passed the guest room, he flipped on the light. "Look, the bed is even made."

"That's because no one has slept in it for months," Sam muttered from behind him

Josh heard the smile in his voice. "Smart ass."

He stood there a moment, waiting for Sam to enter the room. He didn't. He looked like he wanted to say something, but for the first time in the last hour he was speechless.

Then finally he moved. Sam took a step forward and gave him a one-armed hug.

He hadn't lost his best friend after all.

 

Monday, January 22, 2001, 12:15pm

 

"Knock, knock," Josh said as he tapped his knuckle on the office door.

Sam looked up from the papers spread out across his desk. "Hey!"

Josh stepped up to the desk and placed a plastic supermarket bag on top of the papers. "Brought you something."

Sam put down his pen and eyed Josh suspiciously. "What?"

"Traditionally, you're supposed to open it," Josh teased.

Sam picked up the bag and set it in his lap. "It's cold," he noted, tugging open the crumpled edges with one hand. His brow furrowed as he caught a glimpse of what was inside. He glanced up at Josh as he reached in a pulled out the small container. His face lit up with a smile.

"I wasn't sure whether you like macadamia nuts, so I opted for raspberry," Josh said.

"White Chocolate Raspberry Swirl," Sam read from the black and gold container.

"It's Godiva."

"I see that."

"I got you a spoon."

"Thanks. There's only one problem."

Josh's face fell. "What?"

Sam tilted his head to one side. "My mom always told me never to eat dessert first."

"I haven't had lunch yet." The smile was creeping back.

"Me neither."

"The Mess?"

"Good idea."

Sam stood and picked up his ice cream, then followed Josh out the door. "So, I hear you almost forgot to pick up Toby this morning..."

"Shut up, Josh."


End file.
